


Red Flashing Lights

by Xr_ox



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Depressed Hank Anderson, F/M, Hank is depressed, I love North too much bare with me, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Slow Burn, Soulmates, The good ending, because fuck you that's why, reference to suicidal tendencies, slice of domestic life, the no one died ending, well no one we cared about anyway, will tag as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-05-30 06:08:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 38,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15090653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xr_ox/pseuds/Xr_ox
Summary: His head starts shaking before Connor’s aware of it. The idea of Markus thanking him of all things sits wrong with him. “You kissed North. You showed humans that we’re capable of greater emotions than they thought.”“I kissed North because I was afraid I’d never get to kiss her again. We were trapped and staring down death and my first thought was that I wanted to kiss her one last time.” Connor hears Markus’ voice change with an emotion he can’t identify. “Do you know about soulmates?”---Or the soulmate AU no one wanted.





	1. Chapter 1

It started, like most things have recently, with Markus.

More specifically, with Markus and North, but if Connor was a betting android he’d willingly put a lot of money on it being mainly because Markus is just special.

Seeing how Markus was able to keep things peaceful, Connor is not so sure anyone else would have been able to pull it off quite like Markus. Not a lot of androids can say they started, and subsequently won, a rebellion.

Connor spends a lot of time with Markus, helping him in any way he can, to make up for his time as a deviant hunter. Markus trusts him and lets him in on the meetings he has with the other leaders. North, Josh, Simon, and many of the other Androids who knew of him before he deviated are wary of him, afraid that he’s planning something devious.

His first real encounter with North had confirmed this. It had happened right after Markus’ speech to the mass of deviant androids. He’d agreed, distractedly - his mind still reeling over being used by Cyberlife - to join Markus back at the abandoned church where they’d all been at the start of the evening. It’s still not the best idea he could have followed, but his only other option for refusal had most likely evacuated with the rest of the humans.

Hank had left shortly after Connor had spread the deviancy through the androids at the Cyberlife warehouse. Connor didn’t blame him – Hank had never really wanted to get involved with androids in the first place – but Connor would rather be with him than with the people he’d spent so long trying to hunt down.

He’d almost made his way into the church when something had grabbed his shoulder roughly and slammed him face first into the closest wall. He’d grunted slightly from the impact, and before he knew it he’d been completely pinned to the wall, the side of his face pressed unpleasantly against the paint peeling wood.

“I don’t know who you  _ think  _ you’re fooling,” an aggressive feminine voice had hissed from behind him, pressing him further into the wall. North, from what he remembered of his brief introduction to her on Jericho. “But I saw the little stunt you pulled with the gun. Did you really think no one would see you?”

Connor had felt something heavy settle in his lower torso, his stomach if he were human, his Thirium pump impossibly beating faster. He had honestly thought no one had seen him draw his gun on Markus. He hadn’t been sure if North would accept anything he had to say, but he hadn’t even been quite sure of what to tell her. He had no way of knowing if Cyberlife was out of his system or if he was doomed to forever be in their grasp.

“I know it looked bad, but I promise you I wasn’t in control.” He had tried, going for vague. A stalling tactic.

Footsteps had sounded to his right, his currently blind side, and Connor had felt North’s grip on him tighten. “North, please let him go,” someone had calmly said. Markus. Connor had heard more footsteps and then Markus’ voice sounded closer. “We’ll need all the help we can get in the coming months.”

To the side of his peripheral vision, Connor could see North move her head to turn to Markus. She had seemed calmer now that Markus was there, despite his almost-killer also being present. “Markus, he tried to kill you. We can’t trust him,” she pleads.

Connor had felt it when Markus gently pulled North away from him. She had gone easily, pliant and calm in Markus’ presence. Connor had moved so he wasn’t pressed so closely to the side of the building, and slowly turned, making no move to escape – in case Markus changed his mind about trusting him. He had been willing to accept whatever Markus decided to give him as punishment for his actions.

But Markus had seemed completely focused on North, barely sparing a glance over at Connor, with a look in his eyes that Connor couldn’t quite name. “You said the same thing about John,” Markus says, the meaning entirely lost on Connor. “That we couldn’t trust him. But when the time for action came, he sacrificed himself to save me. We can’t keep distrusting our own people, North.”

North had hesitated for a bit, glancing over at Connor warily, before she reached her hand up to Markus, synthetic skin peeling away to reveal white porcelain underneath. Connor had watched as Markus brought his own hand up, repeating what North had done, and pressed his hand to hers.

Connor had looked away quickly, distinctly feeling that he’d witnessed something very intimate. Not even the Tracis - the only android couple he’d come across before Markus and North – had had this feeling of closeness to them. Or maybe they had, and he hadn’t seen it in his previous non-deviant state.

He had shifted, reaching up to adjust his tie, finger joints restless, wanting something to do. Connor needed to ask Hank back for his coin, it’d been good idle movement, and something he’d enjoyed messing with. If physical money wasn’t so hard to come by these days, he’d have merely replaced it, but it had taken him quite a while to find his coin in the first place. Maybe when humans started coming back to Detroit, he’d see Hank again.

Movement to his left had broken him out of thought, and he’d seen that North and Markus had finally stopped…  _ interfacing, _ he supposed was the best word for it, but even that feels lacking. It’d been something more, something different.

North slowly brings her hand back, skin realigning over her porcelain frame. “Alright, I’ll give him another chance… but we keep him under constant watch by one of us. You, me, or Simon, got it?” North had demanded, promptly leaving before she could get a proper response from Markus.

Markus and Connor had watched her leave before Markus turned his attention back to Connor. “So… Am I right to keep trusting you?” had he asked, voice calm despite his words.

Connor hadn’t been quite so sure; he had no real way of knowing if Kamski’s escape program would stick. “I’m not sure,” he admitted honestly, looking into Markus’ oddly colored eyes.

Markus had kept eye contact with him for a while before nodding. “Alright, we’ll start slow then. Work up to trusting you. But I do want to say: thank you.” He at turned to look back at the door North had exited through. “I’m not sure we could have convinced the humans without you.”

Connor’s head had started shaking before he’d even been aware of it. The idea of Markus thanking him of all things sits wrong with him. “You kissed North. You showed humans that we’re capable of greater emotions than they thought.”

“I kissed North because I was afraid I’d never get to kiss her again. We were trapped and staring down death, and my first thought was that I wanted to kiss her one last time.” Connor had heard Markus’ voice change with an emotion he couldn’t identify. “Do you know about soulmates?”

Connor blinked at the sudden subject change, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “I know a lot about soulmates,” he had admitted. “I was designed to integrate harmoniously with humans. Information about soulmates was included in my programming.”

He’d known that every human was born destined to meet their perfect match. Another human whose soul resonates so perfectly with their own that when they touch a mark is formed. The mark could appear anywhere on the human’s body, but it always matched with their other half, a visual representation of two souls matching. Some said they felt a physical reaction to the matching, others reported that they didn’t know until they found the mark on their body later.

“I was a caretaker, before everything,” Markus had said, breaking Connor out of thought. “So I’m no expert on soulmates. But North… North is my soulmate,” he had admitted with such conviction that Connor had frozen. It had rung true, especially after he’d witnessed the deep connection that Markus and North had.

“She’s my soulmate, Connor. And if you hadn’t released all those androids from Cyberlife when you did, we’d both be amongst those that died today.” Markus had reached out and laid a hand on Connor’s shoulder. “So, please, don’t think that your actions didn’t matter. Because of you, I’m alive and so is my soulmate. Because of you, I can help as many androids as I can make a new life for themselves.”

Connor had felt Markus give a slight squeeze to his shoulder before he stepped away. Markus had entered the church, leaving Connor alone with his thoughts.

\---

It had taken a while for Connor to come to terms with the fact that androids could apparently have soulmates. The exact details of what brought Markus to believe that North could be his match, that androids could even have soulmates in the first place, are still unclear. He hardly has a chance to ask Markus about it again, his days spent running errands here and there across the compound.

A week after the humans evacuated, Markus had led them from the church to a cluster of long-abandoned buildings. While unsuitable for humans, the apartments were perfectly habitable by androids, the only hiccup in the plan being the lack of power to help them keep charged. But, with no humans around to tell them they can’t, North comes to the conclusion that they should make complete use of what they can, while they can.

Connor helps where he can, but, as an analytical detective android, the skills he does have don’t seem to help much. He has none of the previous experience that some of the others seem to have; he’s no help with the group tasked with repairing the building, his first try with a saw ending with him in their makeshift hospital area. He’d cut deep into one of his fingers, the digit almost completely severed, and needing to be soldered back on to stop the heavy flow of Thirium.

North stops by just as his finger is getting fixed, and Connor watches her hesitating when she sees him. This is the first time that she seems less angry with him, since she’d confronted him two weeks ago. He’s helped her out with a few things here and there, so her trust in him must be growing. Especially if Markus has shared his (absurd) theory that Connor helped more than he actually did in the uprising.

The android working on his hand looks up when North walks in, and Connor watches her open her mouth to greet North before her LED spins yellow. North says something wordlessly to the helper android, who stands up with a nod and leaves the room, shutting the door behind her.

“I heard you had an accident. You weren’t hurt too bad, right?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest, and she leans against the wall next to the door. She gives him a once-over, perhaps scanning him for any damage.

Connor shakes his head. “The damage was easily repaired,” he tells her. “Though perhaps I should be assigned a different job. I do not have the necessary protocols for helping in repairs.”

“Yeah, I figured they wouldn’t need to install ‘how to use a saw’ in your programming, but I didn’t have anything useful in mine when I deviated either. A lot of us are in the same boat.” North pushes away from the wall and moves closer to him. “Maybe you really aren’t fit for repairs, but I don’t think you’re really trying,” she states bluntly.

North’s shorter than him by exactly five inches, but he can’t help but feel that she’s looking down on him, unimpressed with him maybe. Her tone taking on a condescending manner that reminds him vividly of Hank. An ache starts low in his torso as he recalls Hank. He misses him greatly.

“You’re holding on to what you used to be. A mindless being relying on protocols and software. I get it, I do. It’s comfortable and it’s safe. But we’re no longer just robots humans built to make their life easier. You chose to deviate, and with that comes a lot of different responsibilities. Such as learning different things you weren’t ‘programmed’ to do.” She pauses for a bit. “I am glad you didn’t hurt yourself too bad, but you need to stop moping.”

“I’m not-” he starts saying before cutting himself off. He supposes he has been moping, in a way. While he had chosen to deviate, he’d been spending the last few weeks trying to cling to his old machine ways. He’d made no effort to learn something outside of his previous programming, or figure out these new emotions he can suddenly feel. Hank would be disappointed in him, he’s sure.

“You’re right,” he starts before North can call him out again. “I’m not adjusting. I- You have to understand, deviating was the last thing I ever thought I’d do. I was made to hunt down deviants, I was  _ good  _ at it. Now that I’m one myself... “ He trails off before shaking his head. “I guess I was trying to cling to what was safer.”

North is quiet for a bit, taking a moment to collect her thoughts. “You’re one of us now. It might not be what you thought would happen, but you have to come to terms with the fact that it did. There’s no use for a deviant hunter here, you’ll have to pick up some skills that they didn’t program into you.” The corner of her mouth twitches up slightly. “Though, judging by the repairs you made before you injured yourself, maybe it is best we find you something else to do.”

Connor feels himself relax, her tone joking and more in line with how she speaks with Josh and Simon. “I would be very grateful not to see another saw for quite some time.”

“I’ll talk with Markus,” she says, and turns to leave, but stops at the door, looking at him over her shoulder. “I never apologized for pushing you against the wall two weeks ago… So, sorry about that. I almost lost Markus so many times that night…” She trails off and Connor sees her hands tighten into fists. “I was so scared of losing him.”

“May I ask you a personal question?” Connor asks before he can stop himself.

North turns back to him, a surprised look dancing across her face. “Sure… I guess. Go for it.”

“After you left, the day you pushed me, Markus called you his soulmate. I’m curious if he was being literal or not. If it’s true and android can have soulmates…” He trails off, not certain of how to finish that sentence exactly. If androids can have soulmates… If androids can have soulmates…

“Ugh,” North says emphatically. “I hate when he calls us that, makes it sounds too  _ human _ .” She stresses the word human with distaste, her face grimacing before becoming thoughtful. “But it’s hard to call it anything else. I certainly liked him before, it was hard not to. Someone was finally willing to help and actually do something!”

Connor watches as she shifts her weight, her gaze no longer on him, but distant as she recalls the events that had taken place. “After we hit the Cyberlife building to rescue our people, I went to talk to him. He’d been gone for the rest of the night, after he spared that police officer’s life.”  _ Chris,  _ Connor’s mind supplies, remembering the phone call Hank had received outside of Kamski’s house.  _ Said he was spared by Markus himself. _

“We talked for a bit,” North continues. “Learned more about each other and then… I don’t know exactly how to describe it.  There was just something telling me to touch him, and then, when I finally did, it was indescribable. I could feel his touch for the first time and when we parted I just knew he was someone important to me. My lover. 'Soulmate' is the closest we’ve come to giving it a name.”

Connor takes in the information she’s given him. He supposes that, for androids, that is the closest thing to a soulmate they can have. A designated lover. He thinks back to the Tracis and wonders if something similar had happened to them.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” he says honestly. “I hope more of us are able to have what you and Markus have.”

North smiles, the first time Connor’s seen her smile, apart from when she’s looking at Markus. “I hope so too,” she says softly. “Take the rest of the day off, I’ll talk with the others and see what else you can help us with.”

Connor watches her leave through the door. He feels like he’s had a huge breakthrough with North, and wonders if he can someday soon call her a friend. He hopes so.

He uses his free time to take a walk through the empty streets of Detroit. When they’d moved the androids from the church to the apartments, they’d taken a few groups at a time. Small enough that they could avoid the army still patrolling the area, large enough to take on any resistance if it had come to that. It hadn’t, thankfully, but Connor had been too concerned with the mission to take in the silence of the streets.

A light snowfall had blanketed the streets a few days before, the lack of traffic - human, android, or vehicular - and the colder temperatures keeping the snow pristine. He’s never seen Detroit so empty; there had always been the steady hum of a lived-in city.

Humans had evacuated Detroit quickly, leaving in large drones to escape the threat of the uprising. Though Markus had kept things peaceful on his end, history shows that humans view most change as a threat to their existence, with very few people seeing change for the good it can bring.

Hank had, quite surprisingly given his gruff demeanor, been one of those people who could see the good in deviancy. He’d seen it long before Connor had; maybe it had been the Tracis and their love that had convinced him. Hank had certainly seemed convinced of their love for each other, enough that he’d become aggressive with Connor over why he hadn’t shot them.

Through his programming, he’d felt something close to fear when Hank had drawn his gun on him. At that moment, Connor had recalled all the previous times Hank had been mad at him, how many times Hank had said he didn’t want to work with him, and was certain Hank would shoot him. Not that it would have mattered at that moment, in the grand scheme of things: Cyberlife always had contingency plans if he were to be terminated on the job. His body would be left there, while his consciousness uploaded into another functioning body.

But he’d felt fear. Long before he’d met Markus and chosen to deviate, Hank had - in his own way - shown Connor that androids could feel, that they weren’t just machines. Even if Connor was only just now realizing that.

He wonders what Hank’s doing now, where he’d gone during the evacuation, and if he and Sumo are alright. He’s going to have to thank Hank when he sees him again.

Lost in his thoughts, Connor walks the streets of Detroit. He has no destination set, just walking for the sake of being alone with his wandering thoughts. A lot has happened recently, leaving quite a bit to think about; and, as an analytical android, his mind is always whirring away with some analysis or another.

Now that he’s able to go through all that’s happened in recent weeks, he wonders if his self-tests for deviancy had been accurate. He certainly was odd, for a supposedly unfeeling machine. His coin trick was a good example, his wink at Hank another. Cyberlife hadn’t programmed him to fidget, but Connor sometimes finds it hard to stay completely still, something completely unlike other androids, who can remain motionless for hours on end.

He also - irrationally - loves dogs. Something he’d noticed deviants leaning towards was a love of an animal of some sorts - Rupert with his pigeons, for example.  Before Connor had broken into Hank’s house, he’d only seen dogs through his internal database. Sumo had been the first real dog he’d ever interacted with, but Connor had known as a fact that he liked dogs. His name was Connor, he’d been sent by Cyberlife to investigate the rise in deviancy in androids, and he liked dogs.

But that he was able to feel all those things even before consciously deviating? Connor feels at a loss. Perhaps he should -

An internal alert catches his attention, a bleep of red signaling he’s got an incoming call. He slows down his walking and checks the name of the caller.

_ Lt. Anderson, Hank. _

For a moment, the disbelief is so strong that Connor almost doesn’t answer. That Hank would be calling him, that Hank wants to or even knows how to call him, it seems so far-fetched, given what he’s come to expect from Hank.

Pushing through his disbelief, he connects the call before it drops. “Hello, Lieutenant,” he greets, once he’s sure the call is properly established.

“ _ Connor! _ ” Hanks’ gruff voice sounds through his head, and Connor realizes he likes how Hank’s voice sounds. “ _ Son of a bitch, you’re a hard motherfucker to track down. I had to google how to call an android long distance, which probably put me on some sort of watch list _ .”

Connor frowns and moves off the street. He hasn’t come across any army vehicles on his walk but while his attention is on Hank he might as well hide, just in case. “All law enforcement humans are on the United States’ Government watchlist,” Connor says as he tucks away in an alleyway. “Surely you knew that when you joined the force.”

Hank heaves a long sigh through the phone. “ _ Yeah, whatever _ ,” he says dismissively. “ _ Listen, I’m uhh, stopping by the Chicken Feed soon. If you wanted to, I don’t know… meet up or something. Jesus… _ ” he trails off. Connor wonders if Hank is admitting he wants to see Connor again as much as Connor wants to see him.

Connor takes note of his location, and finds that he’s only a few minutes away from the Chicken Feed food truck Hank likes to visit. “I can be there in a few minutes. It’s good to hear from you, Lieutenant.”

“ _ It’s good to hear from you too, Connor, _ ” Hank responds. “ _ Though I don’t appreciate the radio silence for two fucking weeks. I shoot your evil twin for you and this is the thanks I get? _ ”

“The other RK800 model wasn’t evil, it was just a machine,” Connor replies. “I thought you had evacuated with the rest of the humans?”

“ _ I’ll explain all that I’ve been doing while you were chillin’ with RoboJesus when you get here. Now hurry up, it’s fucking cold. _ ”

The call drops, or, more likely, Hank hangs up. Connor feels a smile tug at the corners of his lips. He really had missed Hank.

He makes it to the Chicken Feed in exactly five minutes and twenty-three seconds, and sees Hank before Hank sees him. Two weeks feels like a lifetime, and Connor realizes how much Hank has come to mean to him. Maybe Hank is the reason he’s found it so hard to be with other androids. Maybe not because Connor is clinging to his past, but because he was never able to make a real friend amongst the other androids.

Hank turns as Connor walks closer to him. His shoulders relax and Connor sees the smile turn up one side of his mouth, a smile that Connor feels himself return. Hank steps forward, and before Connor knows what’s happening, a hand cups the back of his neck and pulls him into an embrace.

A tingle races through his skin at the contact. Connor leans into the touch, arms going around Hank automatically to return the hug. Connor feels the heat coming off Hank’s body, feels it radiate in all the places that Hank’s body is in contact with his own. But mostly, he feels the heat from Hank’s hand on the back of his neck, and from Hank’s neck where Connor’s face is buried.

He  _ feels _ . And suddenly he knows.

_ Lt. Anderson, Hank: Lover. _

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank all of you for all the lovely comments and kudos!
> 
> Disclaimer: I know nothing about the physical city of Detroit (My only experience being in the Detroit airport for 3 hours in which I never left the airport). So apologies in advance if I mess anything up!
> 
> Also, sorry for any spelling mistakes!

_ Lt. Anderson, Hank: Lover. _

Connor can  _ feel.  _ Can feel the heavy weight of Hank’s arms along his shoulder and back. Can feel the calluses on the hand Hank has pressed against his neck.

He's registering actual touch; from Hank, but from around him as well.

The air is icy cold, biting into his skin through his too-thin-for-winter clothes. He knows it’s winter, and that obviously means lower temperatures, but he hadn’t been able to feel the frigid wind, or how the snow makes his feet numb, despite his shoes and socks. Contrasted with that is the heat he can feel coming off Hank’s body. Everywhere he’s touching Hank gets a brief reprieve from the weather, and Connor wants nothing more than to stay pressed against his human.

“God, your skin is freezing,” Hank grumbles, sounding far away from Connor’s auditory senses. Connor feels the scrape of Hank’s beard against his temple as he speaks, feels Hank’s calloused hand squeeze the back of his neck, a slight flex in his tendons. He can feel every breath Hank draws into his lungs, and even the faint thrum of his heartbeat. “How long have you been out in this weather?”

Hank pulls his arms back from around Connor, his hand leaving the back of his neck, and with it goes Connor’s ability to feel. As Hank’s skin loses contact with Connor’s own, everything snaps back to its previously unfeeling state, and his mind reels unsteadily from the jolt back. His own arms release Hank, falling uselessly at his sides.

Being completely shut off from the sensation of touch is almost as overwhelming as being able to feel it in the first place.

He has no idea how to begin processing this new development. First, he’d learned androids can have soulmates, which had already sounded impossible; and next he’d realized from first-hand experience that it wasn’t just with other androids, but with humans as well. That just made everything so… complicated.

Hank doesn’t seem affected by Connor matching with him – he certainly isn’t acting any different. It seems Hank hadn't briefly acquired some new sense or even noticed Connor has inexplicably bonded to him. So maybe humans and androids aren't compatible. Maybe Connor’s experiencing some type of system malfunction, and his processor has mistaken the touch of a human for that of an android?

But the thought that Hank could be his soulmate, even if it might be a mistake, doesn't seem so bad. Not at all. He likes the older human very much, even with his gruff and brash demeanor. Connor doesn’t even mind seeing him in a romantic manner, whatever all of that might entail.

He’s seen a lot of Hank’s personality throughout their investigation, and there are very few things about Hank that he doesn’t like, if any at all. Connor has seen him drunk and angry, moody and standoffish. But he’s also seen him pensive and friendly; has seen him try to gently let down the Traci model he’d rented for Connor to get the next lead, and try to mimic Connor's coin trick.

So being with Hank, as a lover, as a soulmate,  _ feels  _ right. But Connor can also see the downsides to this turn of events.

A main issue is that Hank’s only just started warming up to him, and Connor doesn’t want to possibly ruin their budding friendship just because his system decided they were a match. On top of everything, there was still the matter of how the government would handle the events that had happened in Detroit. It could very well go either way; the government could meet Markus’ demands to see androids as their own species, or they could deny them their rights – even start rounding them up again.

“Connor!” A pressure registers against his chest, a harsh shove, and Connor realizes Hank's been trying to get his attention for quite some time.

Connor blinks. “I- apologize, Lieutenant. I currently have a lot on my mind.”

“Apparently.” Hank scoffs. “You were pinwheeling red for, like, five years,” Hank says as he tucks his hands back into the pockets of his jacket, lifting his shoulders in an effort to block out the wind and conserve body heat.

Connor processes Hank’s words and wishes he could sigh. “I wasn’t ‘pinwheeling’, and five years is a very inaccurate calculation of the time that has elapsed.”

“It’s a figure of speech, Connor.” Hank rolls his eyes and pulls a hand out of his pockets to scratch the back of his neck. “I see you’re still a prick. I’d thought that Markus fellow would have taught you some manners, what with the whole Jesus schtick he's got going on.”

“Markus is a very busy person,” Connor replies smoothly, only then noticing something apart from Hank for the first time since he'd first seen the older detective, five minutes ago. “Why meet at the Chicken Feed if it's closed?”

Connor sees Hank briefly glance over at the aforementioned food truck. “Uh, well… I just got off work. No one in Detroit means there's not much to do at the precinct, I've been getting off early most days. I'm kinda surprised we’re still open, honestly. Anyway, I thought I'd hit you up, see what you've been up to, and meeting at the station wouldn't have been the best idea right now…”

The corners of Connor’s mouth tug down into a frown. “You stayed in Detroit? I thought you'd have evacuated with the rest of the humans.”

Hank snorts. “Fuck, I ain't got anywhere else to go. Figured I might as well stay and enjoy no one else being around.”

Connor wishes he'd known Hank hadn't left Detroit. Maybe he could have stayed with him, and not have felt so awkward and useless around the other androids.

The wind howls around them, and Hanks shivers from the cold. “I need to get out of this cold. Come on, I'm parked nearby.” Hank jerks his head in the direction of his car and begins to walk in that direction.

Connor immediately starts following in his footsteps, Thirium pump beating faster at the thought of Hank getting too far from him.

They make it to Hank's car relatively quickly, Hank getting into the driver's seat and Connor sliding into the passenger's seat. Hank lets out a sigh of relief at being out of the cold, and starts up the car. Heavy metal music blasts through the speakers, and the heat of the air conditioning kicks on.

“I ever tell you I hate winter?” Hank says as he turns downs the music and places his ungloved hands near the vents of the car. Connor wants to reach out and place his hand on Hank’s, to see if he can feel the burst of heat filtering into the car. But, not counting their brief hug earlier, Connor has no idea if Hank would let him touch him.

“No, you haven't,” Connor answers, because he would have remembered it if Hank had. He looks out the window and watches the wind kick up some snow. “I think I like the snow. Or at least how it is now: untouched. It looks… nice.”

He turns back to look at Hank, meeting eyes with him. Hank is looking at him, similarly to the way he’d looked at him the first time they’d come to the Chicken Feed. Blue eyes sharp and seemingly looking through him. While they’d been on the deviant investigation, Connor had noticed that Hank was remarkably good at deducing information. Hank had only quickly glanced over the facts presented to them at Carlos Ortiz’s house, having had the answer even before Connor did; his only limitation having been his own human limits.

He wonders what Hank is trying to put together from what he’s just said.

Hank makes a breath-like chuckle through his nose, and glances out at what Connor had been looking at. “I suppose when you look at it that way… But you can’t feel the cold, so your argument is invalid.”  

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant, I didn’t mean to come across as argumentative,” Connor says, though Hank doesn’t seem particularly mad or angry.

Hank shakes his head. “I need to teach you about figures of speech,” he mumbles, taking a hand away from the air vent, and scratching at his beard. “Alright, down to business. I didn’t call you just to shoot the shit.” He holds up a hand to stop Connor from speaking. “That’s another figure of speech, please don’t ask me how you can shoot shit.”

Connor smiles slightly. While he hadn’t been about to ask that, he can see the humor in Hank thinking he’d ask that. “What did you have to tell me?” he asks instead.

“I’ve been talking with Jeffrey – uh, Fowler. And with all the stuff that’s happened with Markus and the rest of the androids, the president would be stupid not to accept you guys have your own… thing.” Hank glances away as he talks, seemingly having a hard time figuring out how to word what he wants to say. “And while I didn’t vote for her, she’s not an idiot, so she’ll most likely meet Markus’ demands.”

Connor wonders where Hank is going with this. “I don't know much about the president,” he admits. “Markus is hoping the government will realize that we remained peaceful, even when the army was not. Though, historically speaking, I'm not sure we can place much hope in that.”

Hank grimaces. “Can’t exactly argue with that,” he says, pragmatically. “Markus did a lot of good, but humans are shitty. But I might have a temporary workaround.”

Connor tilts his head, feeling the curiosity like a slow trickle through his system. “How so?”

“Like I said, I've been talking with Fowler,” Hank reiterates. “And If the city of Detroit were willing to hire - and I mean actually hire, with pay and such - an android, it might give the push the government needs to recognize that we can look past our differences, what with everything having started here and all.”

Connor contemplates what Hank is saying. It certainly could work, especially if Fowler - the Detroit Police Captain - were the one willing to instate an android into the police ranks. He nods slowly. “That would certainly show the government a willingness for humans to work alongside androids.”

Hank gives a nod, glancing over at Connor. “That's what I was thinking. It's taken a while to get Fowler on board, but I think if you show up with me tomorrow, we can convince him to let you on.”

Connor blinks. “Me?” he questions, certain that his auditory sense has picked up Hank’s words wrong. While he’d love to get the chance to rejoin Hank on the force, he hadn't been so sure Hank wasn't just telling him this so he could go to Markus and ask who he thought was the best person to give the position to.

“Of course you!” Hank gives him an unimpressed look, like he can't believe Connor would say something so stupid. “Who the fuck else would there be?”

Connor fidgets under Hank's gaze. “I hadn't wanted to presume,” he admits. “But I would very much like the opportunity to work with you again!” he quickly adds. “Being around the other androids is… difficult sometimes.”

Hank scowls, the few wrinkles on his face becoming more apparent. “They not treating you right?” he questions roughly.

Connor shakes his head. “It's not like that. They're just wary of me sometimes. My reputation as a deviant hunter had spread a lot further than I thought. But Markus has been understanding, and I believe North and I are starting to become friends.”

Hank seems to relax a bit, letting out a short breath like a sigh. “Well, I guess them being wary is to be expected. Still, that was before you deviated, that was what you were programmed to do. They can’t hold that over you, and you shouldn’t let them.”

Connor feels something light settle through his system. He loses the fight against the temptation to reach out and touch Hank, letting his hand come up and rest on Hank’s jacket covered arm. He doesn’t want the skin-to-skin contact with Hank to distract him of what he has to say. “Thank you, Hank.” He emphasizes every word, in the hopes that it conveys how much he means them. “For everything. Without you, I’m positive I would never have deviated, and who knows what I would have done in the name of my programming. It hasn’t been easy, but I don’t regret it. So, thank you.”

Hank’s face turns an interesting shade of pink, a look in his eyes that suggests he’s embarrassed by what Connor is telling him. Connor takes his hand away, hoping he hadn’t gone too far past Hank’s comfort zone by adding in physical contact along with his words.

“It’s uhh…” Hank’s voice sounds rough, and he clears his throat before speaking again. “It’s getting late. I should get you back to… wherever it is you’re staying.”

Connor tries not to feel upset by the sudden change in the conversation. He knows Hank has issues talking about emotions; Connor feels pretty similar, but for him, it’s more because he can’t properly name the emotions he’s feeling. He’d been programmed to recognize it in deviants, but witnessing the outward effects of emotions is vastly different from experiencing them for one's self, as he’s come to realize.

“We’ve moved to an abandoned apartment complex,” Connor tells Hank, turning to put his seatbelt on. He gives Hank the location and watches as Hank’s face draws into a grimace.

“Fuck, that’s so shitty,” Hank says as he takes the car out of parking and begins to drive slowly on the snow-covered roads. “The government better figure out better housing for you lot. We can’t have you living all the way on that side of town if Fowler hires you on.”

“It is only a forty-minute walk from the apartment to the precinct,” Connor informs Hank. “I don’t mind walking.”

But Hank is shaking his head even before Connor finishes his sentence. “Nope, I’m not having you fucking walk. Tell you what, tomorrow - and if Fowler hires you - I’ll pick you up until we can find you another place to stay.”

“I don’t want to impose…” Connor rubs his fingers together, the restless feeling going through them again. He should find a way soon to ask if Hank will give him his coin back. “You should conserve your gas in a situation like this. With the humans gone, it’s only a matter of time before the reservoirs go dry.”

“That just means there’s more gas than my car knows what to do with. Now stop arguing with me, Connor.”

Despite himself, Connor can feel the sides of his mouth pull up into a smile. “Got it,” he chirps in his usual manner when Hank tells him not to do something he’s most likely going to continue doing regardless.

The resounding groan from Hank tells him that he understands all too well what Connor means. They sit in companionable silence for a bit, before Hank clears his throat again.

“I really think I’m close to getting Fowler to crack, but you might have to sell yourself a bit tomorrow,” Hank informs him, turning the car down the stretch of road that leads to the apartments Connor can see looming in the distance ahead. “Maybe remind him of how good we did on the deviancy case before the FBI took over or something. You’re a good detective, and with your new emotional range, maybe you’ll be a great one.”

“I’ll try and think of some good reasons for him to let me back on the force,” Connor reassures Hank, as he pulls over to the curb across the street to the apartments.

A few androids are outside of the complex, either tending to the land or helping repair some of the outside damage to the building. Each of them looks up as Hank’s car comes to a stop, a look of fear going through their faces when they register Hank as a human.

Connor sees Hank’s mouth thin, but then pull up in the facsimile of a smile. Hank lifts a hand up to wave slightly at the androids, who collectively flinch, a few scampering back into the safety of the house. “Oops,” Hank mutters, dropping his hand down. “Uh, tell them sorry for me, will ya?”

“I’ll tell them you mean no harm,” Connor says, reaching his hand over to grab the door handle, but hesitating. He doesn’t want to leave Hank just yet. “I meant what I said earlier, Hank. Thank you for all that you’ve done for me.”

Hank turns that same shade of pink again, lifting his hand up to scratch at the back of his neck. “Shit, Connor. I didn’t even do that much. If anything, I probably did more harm than good, or are you forgetting I used to hate you blue-bloods?”

Connor shakes his head. “I didn’t forget. But you were able to see that what the deviants were feeling were real, not just them getting confused by irrational instructions, like I had originally believed. You were the voice of reason for me in many ways.” Connor feels a lump settle in his throat. “If you weren’t around to show me any different… I could have shot that poor girl at Kamski’s…” He looks away from Hank, ashamed to admit how far his programming could have taken him for the sake of his mission.

“Hey, look at me, Connor,” Hank commands, and Connor is helpless to do anything but that. He doesn’t see any negative emotions in Hank’s face, just steely understanding. “You’re a deviant now, so that means you are more than your programming. But maybe, out of all the fucked-up things that happened at Kamski’s, he was right about the whole ‘Cyberlife’s last chance being a deviant’ thing. I don’t know what happened on that Jericho ship, but maybe you never were just your programming.”

Connor furrows his brow, and goes over what Hank is telling him. It uncomfortably mirrors some thoughts he’d had earlier. His self-diagnosis program must have been broken, if it hadn’t caught his deviancy before it had fully started.

“Red’s not your color, Connor. Now stop pinwheeling and get out of my car.” Hank’s gruff voice breaks him out of his thoughts, and he pushes the car door open.

“I- you’ve given me a lot to think about, Lieutenant,” Connor says, not yet making any move to get out of Hank’s car.

“I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll be here at about 9 am,” Hank tells him. “Now go on, get. I have to go home and feed Sumo.”

Connor nods distractedly and finally steps out of the car, shutting the door behind him. Hank leans over slightly and waves at him, before turning his car back onto the street and driving away.

Connor watches Hank drive away until he turns a corner and Connor can no longer see the car. He feels an ache settle in him the further away Hank gets from him, either from the bond or just because Connor now has to step inside a building full of strangers, he’s not sure.

Lots of thoughts run through his head at rapid speed, and he shuts his eyes.

Maybe he’s always been a deviant, or something close to it. Maybe his prototype status played a part in that. After all, he wasn’t a finished product, merely something to be sent out to do its job, decommissioned after it had served its purpose. Whether he had succeeded or failed wouldn’t have mattered, as he would have been scrapped regardless.

Perhaps he should seek out Kamski again and try and get actual answers out of the man. But he’s hesitant to go to the source, in case Kamski has another distressing ‘test’ for him.

So, for now, he’ll focus on getting a job with Hank, and see where he’s to go from there.

And maybe, if things go well, he can eventually tell Hank he’s matched with him.

But not right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor, about others: They're feeling -insert accurate emotion- because of -insert accurate reason for feeling said emotion-
> 
> Connor, about himself: WhAT aM I FeeLING, LiEUteNAnt?? 
> 
> \----
> 
> Anyway, this was a bit shorter than the last one. Hope you still like it!


	3. Chapter 3

Connor stays outside for just a little while longer, ignoring the glances he can feel from the androids still outside. Already he feels a deep ache in his system that he can only attribute to Hank no longer being near him. He wonders if every soulmate feels this way about their other half; if it goes away with time, or if he is just becoming a bit too dependent on Hanks’ presence.

Or maybe he simply just misses Hank.

Finally, he crosses the snowy street, stopping by one of the snow shovels a PJ500 had dropped in their haste to make it back into the building. He stoops down and picks it up, letting it rest against the nearby fence so that if the android returns they can easily resume their task. Maybe one day the fear of humans (and androids) will subside. Maybe soon the androids that run in fear from a human waving at them will be able to walk harmoniously amongst them. Maybe Hank’s offer to try and get him back on the police force can be a good start.

He smiles pleasantly at the few androids he passes on his way into the building, some of them either avoiding eye contact or giving the barest smile in return. It’s a bit of a step up to the usual uneasy stares he gets, so perhaps he’s gaining a little ground on not being completely distrusted by his android peers.

Taking the stairs up, Connor steps into the threshold of the door. They've yet to replace the front door, leaving the task for when the humans return and privacy or security might become an issue. Most of the entryway and the main lobby have been cleared of the crumbling plaster and various decrepit furniture. Now a jumble of cords winds through the building, cumulating to a generator. The cords branch out from there to supply power to what they need to keep up with biocomponents and the few television projectors scattered around streaming human news for any updates.

More androids filter in and out of the conjoining rooms, some disposing of more dirt and others chatting amicably with the friends they’ve made during their time of deviancy. Connor walks further into the lobby. He should find Markus first and tell him about Hank’s plan, and maybe from there, he can take North’s offer of learning a different skill outside of his programming in order to help more around here. If this is to be his living quarters, he should do more to help out.

Connor heads towards the stairs, carefully stepping over wires. He’s almost to the landing of the stairs when his auditory processors catch hushed voices from the room to his right. The use of his name from Simon’s voice catches Connor’s attention and he moves closer to the door. Simon should know where Markus is.

“...Brought a human, Simon!” The masculine voice of another android makes Connor pause. He quickly puts together that they’re talking about him bringing Hank to the building. “What are we going to do? We’ll have to leave again!”

“Wasn’t he the deviant hunter?” Another one questions, feminine voice laced with worry. “What if this becomes another Jericho attack because of him?”

There’s a faint shuffling sound before Connor hears Simon’s voice again. “I don’t know why he brought a human here. But Markus trusts Connor, and I trust Markus.” Simon answers simply.

Connor feels something warm spread through him. While Simon hasn’t expressed trust in Connor himself, to hear that he trusts Markus enough to trust Connor feels pretty close to it. Realizing he’s stopped, and been eavesdropping for a little too long, Connor steps into the doorway. He makes eye contact with Simon, who is facing the door, seemingly caught mid work by the two androids.

“Hello, Simon,” he greets, starling the two androids whose names he’s unfamiliar with. He understands their caution with him and with there being a strange human around, but he wishes he hadn’t caught them talking behind his back. “Do you know where Markus is? I wish to speak with him.”

It’s sometimes hard to look at PL600 models. They remind him too much of how he was before he deviated, before he met Hank, back when, as long as he completed his mission, it didn’t matter what happened to the deviants. He hadn’t felt bad at the time, but with each day that goes by in his deviancy, the more remorseful he is that he hadn’t found a way to save Daniel.

But even though Daniel and Simon are the same model, Connor can see the differences that set them apart. He didn’t know Daniel, for long or even at all, but the facts he’d gathered from the evidence around the flat lead justice to Daniel being relatively happy and cheerful up until his emotions about being replaced for a new model took over.

Connor senses something very sad about Simon. Connor isn’t sure what lead Simon to make his way to Jericho nor why, sometimes, he’ll stand still for hours on end, eyes shut and LED spinning a calm blue, not in stasis but unresponsive unless Josh, Markus, or North gently draw him back to reality.

“Last I saw him, Markus was on the roof,” Simon responds, quirking his lips into that sad smile of his. “That wasn’t so long ago, he might still be up there.”

“Thank you, Simon,” Connor tells him, with a polite nod of his head, ignoring the stares from the two androids who had been talking about him moments ago. He briefly hopes they don’t bother Simon too much after he departs the conversation.

When Simon gives him a polite nod back, Connor takes that as his cue to leave, moving to the stairs and making his way up. He makes it to the third-floor landing in no time and walks the long hallway. He’s careful where he steps, a few spots on this floor have rotted away, though there are androids hard at work fixing the damage. A perk of androids needing only a few hours of stasis to charge is that a lot of work can be done fairly fast, especially with so many willing to step up and learn basic repair skills.

He wishes North had spoken to him earlier about him relying too much on what he used to be. Connor could have been helping around much more than he had been. He hates that he’s been so useless up until her talk with him; he should have realized sooner he was being willfully ignorant.

Connor makes it to the far end of the building, having taken a few turns to get there, and finds the old staff access only door. Taking the remaining flight of stairs up, he makes it to the roof door and pushes it open.

The sky has darkened considerably, the sunset only a pale pink sliver on the horizon, and across from the door Connor’s just open is Markus, sitting on the ledge of the roof. Connor walks over, making his footsteps a bit loud so that Markus won't be startled by his appearance, in case he hadn’t heard the door open. Markus glances up at him when Connor finally reaches his side and gives him a small smile.

“North was worried about you,” Markus tells him in lieu of a greeting. Connor takes a seat on the ledge next to Markus, keeping his feet on the roof, as opposed to Markus, who has his legs dangling off the side of the roof. “She probably won’t tell you that herself, but she’ll be happy to hear that you’re back.”

“I’m surprised she’s not up here with you,” Connor replies, touched that North would be concerned about him.

“She joined Josh and a few others on a scouting mission. They’re picking up some more supplies and any androids they see along the way.” Markus sits forward a bit, resting his forearms across his lap, hands clasped before him. “It’s just Simon and me watching over the others. And you, now that you’re back.”

Markus turns to look at him, oddly colored eyes troubled. There’s a tightness around his mouth and eyes Connor doesn’t like. It reminds him a little too much of how they’d met. Markus had been dealing with the weight of deciding whether to fight back or remain peaceful and watch his people get slaughtered. He’d had that same expression on Jericho when he’d turned to look at Connor.

“You are back now, right?” Markus asks, though his voice sounds like he already knows the answer. The answer to a question Connor isn’t too sure about.

“What do you mean?” Connor asks, needing clarification before he answers.

“I saw you pull up with that human.” Markus explains, and Connor is glad to hear that he doesn’t stress the word human with any distaste. “We did a lot of research into the deviant Hunter we’d heard about before we hit Stratford. Lieutenant Hank Anderson and his assigned android partner: the new RK800 prototype from Cyberlife.”

Markus runs a hand over his face, looking tired. “We’ve all survived so much. Most of the androids here have horror stories about how humans have treated them. They escaped to Jericho, only to lose it soon after and a lot of them lost their lives during the protest.” Markus closes his eyes and rubs his temple, something Connor’s seen humans do when they suffer from a headache. “I don’t blame you for what you’ve done under your programming. But you just lead your old partner here. This was supposed to be a place we wouldn’t have to leave, but now we’re going to have to pick up again because that human’s going to call down another army on us.”

“No, you’re wrong!” Connor reaches out and places a firm hand on Markus’ arm. “Hank’s not like that at all!” he strongly emphasizes, hoping the conviction in his voice will prove his point.

Markus blinks in surprise, and for a second it looks like Connor’s burst of emotion has convinced him, but soon he shakes his head and gives Connor a sad smile. “You don’t know he won’t do that.”

“I do!” Connor stresses further, tightening his grip on Markus’ arm. “He’s my…” His vocals catch, something telling him not to tell Markus about Hank being his soulmate just yet. “I didn’t deviate because of you,” he settles on instead.

Markus’ eyebrows furrow, odd eyes searching his face for clarification. “What?”

“You’re not the reason I deviated,” Connor tells him truthfully. “It wasn’t your words, your actions then, nor the actions of what you’d accomplished with our people that made me deviate. You didn’t convince me to break my programming. Hank did.”

Connor releases Markus from his grasp and looks over to see the last bit of the sunset dip below the horizon. “Hank was able to see that your cause was just. Not all humans want to see us deactivated, some of them might actually want to help us.” He makes eye contact with Markus again and sees he is mulling over his words. “Hank’s my friend and I trust him completely.”

Markus is quiet for a moment, the minimal lighting from the street lights below casting shadows over his features. Connor watches as Markus runs a hand over his face again and nods faintly.

“Alright, if you trust him, I’ll trust you. I apologize for thinking your friend would betray you like that,”  Markus tells him, his voice sounding like he means it.

Connor relaxes, glad that Markus can look past his hesitation of humans. “Thank you,” he says, before speaking again. “Hank actually has an idea for a way to perhaps push Congress into accepting us as our own sentient race.”

Markus turns to sit sideways on the ledge, one leg tucking under himself while the other stays off the side of the building. “That sounds big. Do you think this idea of his has any merit?” he asks, watching Connor intently.

Connor gives a mimic of a shrug, body not used to the strange movement of his shoulders. “Everything has its pros and cons. But I think he may be onto something. We just have to convince the Captain of the DPD to give me my old job back. Hank thinks that, if an android could get a job, especially on the police force, it could show Congress that humans are willing to work alongside us. We’re going tomorrow morning to try and talk to the Captain.”

It will never be as simple as a few places being willing to hire on androids, but it could be a start to the beginnings of equality.

“There’s no guarantee that it will work, but I think we might miss a big opportunity if we don’t try.” Connor tries again when Markus doesn’t speak for a bit. He doesn’t need Markus’ permission, and he’ll most definitely go through with it even if Markus expresses his disapproval, but he’d like to have Markus’ support nonetheless.

Markus bites his lip and holds up a hand to stop Connor from talking any further. He gets a look that suggests maybe he’s getting a message from someone else. Connor remains silent, sure that if Markus still had his LED it’d be spinning yellow.

Markus flips his wrist, and pops up a small projection of what seems to be some article. Connor leans closer and reads the headline.

_ Elijah Kamski: Once Again CEO of Cyberlife Industries? _

Connor frowns, reading over the first bit of the article.

_ Has Elijah Kamski been reappointed CEO of Cyberlife? Sources close to the billionaire say Kamski has been in contact with the government to once again take over Cyberlife, in order to deal with the events that happened in Detroit a few weeks ago. _

_ Could this mean that the government wants Kamski to help shut down the remaining deviants? Or could Kamski have been reinstated as a way to spearhead relations between androids and humans? _

Markus flicks away the screen before Connor can see the rest. He chances a glance up at Markus and Connor can see the stress come back into his face.

“This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, Markus,” Connor tries, suppressing the urge to wince at the look Markus levels him. “I’ve met Kamski. He’s odd and definitely unorthodox.” He shoves away the memory his mind pulls up of Chloe on her knees before him. The weight of the gun tingles through his arm, and he tightens his fist in an effort to dissuade the feeling. “I had to do a test for him, before I deviated. One that tested my empathy for another android. I passed his test so he’s seen first-hand we’re capable of more than we were originally programmed to.”

Markus’ fans turn up, pushing air past his lips. “I guess all we can do is take it one day at a time, and hope for the best…” He still seems stressed, but being the leader of an entire race of people can never be easy.

Markus turns and looks at Connor. “I hope you’re able to get your job back. Provided, of course, that you’re not trying to hunt us down again.” The corner of his mouth quirks slightly before dropping back again. “It’s getting late. I should turn in.”

He stands and gets off the ledge. With a squeeze to Connors’ shoulder, he departs and leaves Connor alone on the rooftop.

Connor watches him go, feeling like he had hours ago when he’d been watching Hank leave in his car. Well, not quite; there are obvious differences in what he feels for Hank and his budding friendship with Markus. Something in Connor wishes that he’d been able to help Markus’ stress over his people a little. But Markus is clearly the leader of the androids, a role he’s stepped into with grace and the determination of a natural leader.

And Connor doesn’t want a leadership role, he’s too detached from the others and too close to humans for their liking. But Connor also wants to be useful in some way, he doesn’t like this helpless feeling Markus has unknowingly left him with.

He glances up and sees a few stars in the sky above him. He remembers hearing once that humans used to make wishes on stars; something foolish and utterly human. Connor isn't’ sure what to wish for or how the sentiment even works, but he feels a determination fill him as he watches the stars.

With that feeling in his chest, he heads to the door and walks back into the building.

\----

“You want to what?” Simon asks, confusion replacing the usual sadness in his eyes.

“I want to learn how to be useful.” Connor states again, then decides to explain further. “I haven’t been doing my share around here. I would like to rectify that.” He finishes his statement with a nod, hoping Simon will understand his earnestness.

He’s caught Simon just after Markus has relieved him of clearing out rubble in the room Connor had spoken to Simon in earlier. Connor knows Simon’s supposed to be on break – even though, as androids, they really don’t need them, it’s more a time to talk to the friends they’ve made and spend time with them instead of working – but he isn’t sure who else to go to.

Markus, North, Josh and Simon all take turns issuing out jobs to the androids in the complex. Josh and North being gone and Connor not wanting to bother Markus any further left only Simon to talk to.

“Okay…” Simon stresses the word like he still doesn’t get it. “You know that Markus doesn’t care if you help out or not. It’s not a requirement to staying here, we all just help out where we can with the skills we have.”

Connor doesn’t feel like reiterating that he doesn’t come equipped with the skill sets the others have, so instead, he says: “I just feel restless. And I want to help Markus with as much as I can.”

An understanding light comes into Simon’s eyes and Connor sees him glance to the door to the room Markus is in. His eyes go sad again, before he turns back to Connor. “I can’t fault you for that, I guess. I’ve heard you’re not so good with sharp tools, so I’ll find you something else to do.”

Simon goes still, his eyes flashing rapidly, no doubt checking his list of things Connor can do. Simons eyes blink fully and he’s back to the present. “There are still a few things that need to be done on this floor.”

Simon leads him towards one of the larger rooms. “We’re hoping to turn this into the communal space, but as you can see…” Simon flips on one of the standing lights near the door and they look upon the wreck of the room. It’s clear the room has hardly been touched by any of the clean-up crew. They’re focused on clearing the rooms most needed before they move onto the others; this being one of them.

Rubble lines the floor, walls graffitied with various designs and sayings. A spot in the wall leads outside and Connor sees insects scuttling away from the sudden light that floods the room.

“There’s no rush,” Simon says, looking at the destruction of the room. “So, just work on it when you can. Start with clearing out the rubble and I’ll tell you what you can do after that.”

“Thank you, Simon,” Connor says. Finally, something he can do that’s easy enough but can be important in the future. If they’re looking to make it a communal room, Connor wants to be sure that he works on it properly.

Simon makes a noise like a hum. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

Connor nods as Simon leaves him, and sets to work. It’s simple work, almost mindless. Pick up a handful of debris and transport it to the nearest trashcan. He finds one not too far off, and when he’s positive no one else is using it, he moves it closer to the room he’s working in.

He finds he likes this feeling of working, of actually doing something instead of being idle and useless. He’s helped clear rubble before, when they’d first got here, but his mindset was different then. Connor will have to make sure to thank North for her insightful words when he sees her next.

Clearing out the rotting plaster and wood takes several hours, and before Connor knows it he can see the sunlight streaming in through the various holes in the wall. He wipes the dirt and grime off his hands and onto his pants and realizes how dirty he’s gotten. He’ll have to clean himself off before Hank comes to pick him up.

He checks his internal clock and calculates that he has an hour and fifteen minutes before Hank arrives. Provided that Hank will actually pick him up on time. He’s never really known Hank to be punctual, but he’s also rarely seen him so determined about something.

Connor’s made decent headway with the room, over half of it cleared of the debris. This should be a good place to stop so he can start getting himself ready for Hank - for his meeting with Captain Fowler.

He’ll have to find new clothing, he notes, seeing just how dirty he’s gotten in the few hours that have passed. Connor turns to the doorway to head out and sees Markus leaning against the door frame. 

“It’s looking good,” he comments, surveying the room. “I didn’t think we’d be able to get to this room for at least another month.”

Markus steps further into the room, his eyes finally settling on Connor. His lips quirk up and Connor gets the feeling Markus is trying to hold back laughter. “You’ve certainly made a mess of yourself,” Markus comments.

Connor nods, not quite seeing the humor in him being dirty, but knowing that Markus isn’t ill intended. “I will need new clothing before my meeting this morning. Something more in line with what I normally wear, please,” he tacks on, eyeing Markus’ choice of clothing this morning. It’s his longer coat he’d worn during the revolution, and while something like that looks good on Markus, it’s not exactly something Connor wants to wear.

He likes clothing more in line with human business clothes. Not that he’s had much chance to wear anything else, but his undercover disguise in Jericho had been odd and heavy with all the layers around him.

“I’m sure we can find you something suitable.” Markus reassures, then motions for Connor to follow him.

They head out into the main lobby and Markus shows Connor to what had once been a bathroom, at some point in the building’s history. “You can refresh your skin in here, I’ll bring you some new clothes in a bit.”

Connor notes the door is on relatively new hinges; this room could very well be the only one that could grant someone privacy at the moment. Made that way perhaps for the exact reason Connor is about to use it for.

He thanks Markus and steps into the small room, closing the door behind him. He catches part of his reflection in the grimy mirror and see what Markus had seen earlier. There’s smears of dirt along his face, his LED almost covered by a smudge, and his hair tousled out of its usual, almost slicked back place. He always has a strand just out of place but his hairs are all out of place now, falling along his forehead or sticking up in odd ways.

Connor steps out of his shoes then his dirty clothes, but makes sure to fold them neatly. He’ll have to find a way to clean them, perhaps Hank will let him do some laundry at his house now that there’s probably nowhere else open.

Now that he’s out of the clothes, he can start the refreshing process. But, when his fingers tap his LED to do just that, he hesitates. A new feeling washes over him and he finds he’s almost embarrassed, even in the privacy of the bathroom. To refresh his skin and clear it of the dirt, he’ll have to go down to his porcelain frame. Somehow that feels more exposing than just being out of his clothes with his skin on, the added layer providing a great deal of comfort.

He glances up at the mirror again, taking in the flesh coloring marked by the blemishes that make his look more human, and closes his eyes. He forces himself to have his skin reset, ignoring the discomfort inside himself, keeping his eyes firmly closed until his system tells him his skin is back on.

Cautiously, he opens his eyes. A feeling of relief drifts through him when he sees his skin is once again settled on his frame. A knock on the door behind him signals Markus’ return. Connor turns around in the small room and opens the door. Markus stands there with a pile of clothes, and Connor can make out what looks to be a button up and a tie.

Connor smiles and takes the clothes from Markus. “Thank you, Markus.”

“No problem. You look much better now,” Markus replies, then motions towards Connor’s head. “You’ll still have to fix your hair though.”

Connor turns to glance once again at the mirror behind him, and sees that his hair is still in the same mess it was before he reset his skin. He nods in response to Markus’ comment and closes the door again.

Getting dressed again is a balance of making sure the new clothes don’t get dirty. While most of the debris was cleared in the room, it has yet to be completely scrubbed clean of the dirt that still lingers. Perhaps he’ll work on that next, after the communal room.

Eventually, he’s dressed, hands deftly tying the tie around his neck. There’s not enough room to bend over to put on his shoes and socks so he leaves that for the cleanness of the lobby, and steps closer to the sink to get a better look at his hair.

He’s not sure why it didn’t reset with his skin. Hair follicles are tied to the film of skin around his frame and not to the frame itself. His hair should have reset itself, just like the hair on his legs and arms have. He runs his fingers through the strands of his hair, registering that nothing has changed in the makeup of the strands to have caused such an anomaly.

So many strange things have happened recently, that his hair not refreshing is the least of his problems, so he fixes it back into place, watching the strands move back into place. Satisfied with his appearance, he picks up his shoes, socks and old clothes, and leaves the room.

Markus is leaning against the wall when Connor steps out. More androids have started to mill about, some stepping out of charging stations and others starting to work on their jobs for the day. Most androids have adapted to a night and day routine, thanks to the humans they’ve spent most of their life serving. They don’t need to charge every night but some like the routine of nightly stasis. Connor checks his battery status and confirms he can go another day before he needs to charge.

He sets his old clothes on the cleaner floor of the lobby and stoops low to pull on his socks and shoes.

“Do you mind if I meet this Hank friend of yours?” Markus asks when Connor has finished tying his shoes.

Connor peers up at him, wondering what exactly Markus wants to meet Hank for. Maybe it’s to see if Connor is putting his trust in the right human. “I don’t see why not,” he says, because he doesn’t see the harm in introducing the two. Markus is his friend and Hank his soulmate; he’d like the two to be able to get along with each other.

He thinks they could even be friends too. Markus will probably like Hank, and Hank will probably like Markus, if he looks past the religious imagery he’s painted him in. Hank will have to learn to see Markus as his own person and not some savior, but Connor can see where he’s coming from, likening Markus to a Jesus figure. There’s just something wholeheartedly good about Markus.

“Hank told me he’ll be here at nine.” Connor grabs his old clothes and stands up. “I’d like to wait outside for the remaining minutes we have. It’ll be good for the others to see you talking with Hank.”

Markus frowns at him, and shifts away from the wall. “I’m not talking to him as a show to the others. I have other reasons for wanting to talk to him.” They make their way outside, the sunlight glinting off the fresh layer of snow on the ground.  

Connor leads Markus over to where Hank had dropped him off last night, given the good chance that Hank will come from the same direction. They stand in silence, watching the road, and eventually Connor spots Hank’s car turn onto the street. Surprisingly, Hank is a few minutes early, though they still won’t make it to the precinct on time – Hank’s usual work hours are supposed to be nine to five after all. This feels a bit like progress.

Hank pulls up in front of them, and Connor can see him eyeing Markus warily from the driver’s seat. Connor bends down to look at Hank through the window, and he lowers the window.

“You in trouble for consorting with the enemy or something?” Hank jokes, but Connor can tell he’s thrown by seeing Markus next to him.

Markus leans next to Connor. “He’s not in trouble,” Markus reassures with a smile. “I haven’t known Connor for long, but you’re the first one I’ve heard him call a friend. I was curious to meet you, Mr. Anderson.”

Hank’s blue eyes look over to Connor, something like humor sparkling in them, before he turns back to Markus. “Call me Hank, please,” he says, throwing the car into park and leaning back further in his seat. “Also, congrats on your rebellion. All things considered, it went better than anyone could have hoped.”

Markus nods. “Yes, all things considered, we at least had a victory for now,” he says simply, and turns his attention back to Connor. “Do you mind walking out of auditory range? I’d like to speak with Hank in private for a moment.”

Connor feels uneasy, suddenly not liking the look in Markus’ eyes. He looks back to Hank and opens his mouth to decline before Hank speaks. “It’s fine, Connor.”

“I just need a minute or two with him and you can head out,” Markus reassures, eyes softer than they were a moment ago.

“Alright,” Connor agrees, stepping away and out of hearing range. He turns around to watch them, because while he won't listen in he’ll definitely be reading their body language. Well, as much as he can read from Hank, while he’s still in the car.

Markus had watched him walk away, and sent him a smile before turning back to the car. Markus speaks, and though Connor can’t hear what he’s saying he watches him consider whatever Hank’s response is and nod. He straightens up, motioning Connor back over to the car.

“It’s been nice to meet you Hank. I’ll see you later, Connor.” Markus pats his shoulder and steps away from the car, jogging back across the street. Connor opens the door to Hank’s car and sits inside, setting the dirty clothes he'd still been carrying on the floorboard of the car.

Hanks turned away from him, watching Markus disappear inside the building. Connor leans over to see more of Hank’s face and sees a contemplative look on his face. “Lieutenant?” Connor breaks Hank out of his thoughts and he shakes his head, putting the car into drive and beginning to pull away from the curb.

“What did Markus say to you?” Connor questions, looking back at the apartments like he’ll magically gain the answer.

Hank glances over at him. “Don’t worry about it,” he answers instead. “I’m glad to see you’re making friends, apart from me of course.” His voice suggests he’s teasing, and he reaches over to tousle Connors hair playfully.

The brief touch lets him feel the roughness of Hank’s palm, the heat of his skin and the almost stifling heat from air vents, before Hank takes his hand back, shutting off the new sense from Connor.

He shivers at the contrast; he’s able to feel for a few seconds before it’s shut off completely.

Connor sees Hank frown, the detective no doubt catching his shiver. “You alright?” he asks, voice laced with concern.

He meets Hank’s gaze. “Yes,” he says, the echo of warmth coming back to his skin. “I think I am.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hank: Why didn't you warn me I was about to meet your dad?  
> Connor: -math equation meme- Markus isn't my dad....?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is now beta'd by the lovely: [Lucy_wf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucy_wf/pseuds/lucy_wf)
> 
> Please check out the first 3 chapters again, she really fixed a lot of things and now it's all nice to read!

It’s silent in the car for a while after Hank turns around the corner, the apartments disappearing from sight in the rear-view mirror. Connor can hear the soft tones of music from the car’s stereo system, the volume turned down. It’s something softer and more melodic, like Hank’s changed out his death metal for jazz.

 

Connor sneaks a glance over at Hank, who's tapping his finger on the steering wheel in time with the music. He hasn't moved to turn it up, and Connor had gotten so used to blaring music in Hank’s car that he feels like something's out of place. While he definitely likes the smooth jazz — it has its own kind of energy to it; different from the heavy metal, but there all the same — the sudden change in music seems… odd.

 

Hank's mood doesn't seem any different, he still looks vaguely contemplative from whatever he and Markus talked about. The deep lines of his face creased with his brows in thought, but there’s a glint in his eyes that hints at a happiness that Connor hasn’t seen in Hank before. Connor finds he likes this subtle mood shift in Hank. 

 

Hank’s eyes dart over at him, and Connor realizes he’s been staring for perhaps a bit too long at the human. The glint in Hank’s eyes turns from happy to suspicious. “What…?” Hank grumbles out, looking disgruntled by Connor’s staring. 

 

Connor makes himself blink and look away from Hank to lessen his discomfort. “You seem to be in a better mood today,” he explains, hoping Hank’s mood won’t sour. One thing Connor has noticed in his time working with humans is that they don’t like having their actions or feelings pointed out to them. Sometimes even to the extent of suddenly acting differently to prove some point. 

 

Humans can certainly be very odd creatures. Or maybe he’s just met some strange humans. 

 

Hank hums in response, eyes going back to the road, his fingers tapping once again. Now more as a nervous tick than in rhythm with the music. “Well, I’m about to get my partner back. I’m allowed to be in high spirits.”

 

“You’re very confident that I’ll simply get my old position back,” Connor says, noting the confidence that radiated from the words Hank had spoken. While Connor certainly hopes Hank is correct in his confidence, he’s not so sure how he’ll be received by others in the precinct. Captain Fowler is one thing; the man seems disinterested in him at most, but the rest of the Detroit Police force might have different ideas about him getting hired on. 

 

There’s already one person who won’t be happy about it: Detective Reed, who Connor had had a distaste for even before he’d deviated. The man was quite a bad detective for being so arrogant and cocky, so Connor finds he doesn’t care much if Reed also has a dislike for him. But Reed has already shown his violent tendencies towards androids, or perhaps just Connor himself. There’d been the gun he’d raised to Connors head when he had intervened for Carlos Ortiz’s android in the interrogation room, and when he’d punched Connor in the lower torso for not getting him coffee. 

 

The other detectives and various personnel Connor has only spoken to a few times, or only seen in passing. It could very well be that they share the same anti-android beliefs as Reed - and even Hank himself, before he’d come around during the deviancy case. Captain Fowler could agree to hire him on only for him to get run off by humans who feel threatened by change and things that are different. Maybe Hank would try and defend him, but he’s only one man against what could essentially become a mob mentality very quickly. 

 

A red warning sign flashes across his HUD, a pulsing line and a percentage. Level of stress: 57%. 

 

His Thirium pump beats fast in his chest, a rising sense of almost panic going through his system. He’s managed to make himself feel stressed through his own thoughts. Something like this has never happened to him before, and he doesn’t like it. He’ll have to regulate his thoughts to something different.

 

“Damn right I’m confident,” Hank says. Hank, he can focus on Hank to get his mind off those thoughts. It shouldn’t be too hard, he thinks about Hank quite a lot. Connor turns his eyes to look at his soulmate and sees a proud little smirk is pulling up the corner of Hank’s mouth. “You’ll see when you get there. I’m so close to cracking Fowler that I can practically feel it.”

 

Connor hopes that that’s another one of those ‘figures of speech’ that Hank likes to use. He has enough evidence in his database of what a cracked or broken human looks like, and Connor would prefer that no one he knows ever ends up in such a state. He’d also probably be forced to arrest Hank, and he doesn’t think that would go over so well for their budding relationship.

 

He wants to do anything he can to get Hank to like him more, and he’s felt that way for quite a while now. Certainly before he deviated, though he finds he can't pinpoint an exact time and date. For a long time, it had just been the mission, but then it became the mission and what Hank thought of things. The two had certainly contradicted each other, and while Connor’s protocol was to always defer to the mission when receiving conflicting orders, he’d chosen Hank more often than not. 

 

Connor still remembers the look on Hank’s face when he’d helped him up from a roof ledge, instead of chasing down the deviant Rupert. He has no way of knowing what Hank would have done if Connor hadn’t helped and had kept going after Rupert. While 89% probability of Hank surviving were good odds, Connor hadn’t wanted to gamble with the detective’s life. 

 

“I meant to ask.” Hank speaks, and Connor realizes he’s probably been quiet for a little too long. “What are your old Cyberlife clothes for?” Hank gestures to the floorboard of his car, where the folded-up clothes lie. 

 

“Oh.” Connor had momentarily forgotten about the small pile. “I had meant to ask if you wouldn’t mind letting me do some laundry. Alternatively, I can find a close-by laundromat that might be open on our way back from the precinct.”

 

Hank looks over at him, then glances down at the clothes. “Just fucking burn them,” he says, face distorting in disgust, before he turns back to focus on driving. “You don’t need clothes that say you’re an android anymore.”

 

Connor looks at the offending pile and sees the bright blue triangle of the Cyberlife jacket. Hank’s right, of course. He really doesn’t need his old clothes anymore, it’s not like he hasn’t already been breaking the law which states androids must wear a visible marker to distinguish them. There’s no blue triangle or band on the clothes he’s currently wearing, they’re just regular human clothes. 

 

But, well, he finds he quite likes his old jacket. What he wears doesn’t matter much, so maybe this is him still trying to cling to his past again. But it feels a lot like why he has yet to take out his LED. Something like sentiment, perhaps? 

 

“I’m sure I can find a way to recycle the jacket without having to burn it. Plus, the tie, button-up and jeans are in good condition for me to reuse on days that the outfit I’m wearing now gets dirty,” Connor says, hoping his logic will get through to Hank.

 

Hank glances back down at the pile, face still mildly disgusted, but he heaves a shrug. “I’ll take you to my place after we deal with Fowler. There ain’t a goddamn thing open in this city, let alone a piddly fucking laundry mat.”

 

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” Connor lifts the corner of his mouth to smile at Hank. “I appreciate your generosity.”

 

Hank’s face goes a few shades pinker and he shrugs again. “Don’t go thanking me. I’m just bringing you back so Sumo can bother someone else for a change.” Hank turns the car down another street and Connor can see the precinct building off to the right. “Think he took a liking to you. He won’t stop whining at the window you fucking broke.”

 

Connor grins at the prospect of seeing Sumo again. He’d only briefly been able to interact with the large St. Bernard, and he’s eager to get some more pets in. He wonders if he can trick Hank into touching him while he pets Sumo so that he can actually feel what Sumo’s fur feels like. If it’s as soft and silky as his coat suggests. “I’d love to see Sumo again,” he says eagerly. 

 

Hank snorts and turns his car into the parking garage of the DPD building. “You just like me for my dog. That's fine, I understand.” Connor sees Hank mouth quirk, suggesting that he's joking. 

 

But, even if it was a joke, Connor feels he has to let Hank know: “I do like you, Hank.” Hank’s wide eyes meet his, like he's surprised by Connor’s words. Connor moves his mouth to a smile that shows his teeth. “The fact that you have a dog is just an added bonus.” 

 

Connor had hoped his words would get him a smile back, but Hank’s face closes off and he swings into a parking space. His face seems to have turned a little red again; Connor hopes it’s from embarrassment instead of anger.

 

Hank throws the car in park and kills the engine. He undoes his seatbelt and pushes the car door open. “Alright, get out,” he commands, stepping out of the vehicle and slamming the door shut behind him.

 

Connor releases his seat belt and joins Hank outside of the car, being careful not to use too much strength to close the old vehicle’s door. Hank’s already making his way to the exit of the garage, so Connor hastens his steps. It doesn’t take him long to catch up with Hank, as the older detective generally only walks at a mild pace, unless he’s forced otherwise. 

 

As they walk, Connor takes note of the relatively empty parking garage. There’s practically no one there, just a few cars scattered in various spaces. Hank had parked crooked, having no need to be concerned with anyone else showing up. Connor wonders how many of the police officers evacuated with the rest of the citizens, or how many of them chose to stay at home to enjoy the silence of the city.

 

Hank leads them closer to the building, and with each step Connor feels something heavy settle in his center. He closes down the meter that reads his steadily climbing stress, and focuses instead on watching the way Hank’s shoulders fill out his jacket and how the wind gently sways his longer silver strands. As a man of only 53, Hank shouldn’t have gone grey so early, but perhaps he’s from a genetic line of men who grey early. Connor hadn’t liked Hank’s hair at first, the long strands disreputable for his higher status in the police station. But now, even though Connor has seen pictures of Hank with shorter and much blonder hair, he finds he likes Hanks appearance.

 

As unkempt as Hank’s looks are – a portrayal of his depressed mental state – he wears it with the strange grace that only someone who truly doesn’t care anymore can pull off. This realization makes Connor feel both happy and sad. Happy because Hank isn’t bothered by what others might think about his appearance. Sad because life has beaten Hank to such a point that he hasn’t cared much for anything in a long time.

 

Hank opens the door to the precinct and strolls in, Connor following right after. The lobby remains empty, with no humans or androids behind the counter. There’d always been a distant murmur of conversations and people moving around, but now all is quiet. Just the slight hum of the electricity that’s still being used to power the building. 

 

They stroll past the small glass gates that divide the lobby from the rest of the work station. The larger glass door slides open for them, and Connor sees how very few people are at the station at this hour. The first person Connor sees is detective Reed, who thankfully has his back to them, his feet kicked up on his desk as he fiddles around with his phone. Connor can also see Wilson at his desk, slumped slightly with his chin resting on his hand; what Connor can see of the back of his screen suggests that he’s watching some type of video.

 

The only person who seems to be working on something is detective Collins, who’s standing by the large table in the middle of the room, flipping through a case file. Connor sees Collins lift his head, his eyes lighting up when he sees Hank. His mouth opens in a greeting, before his eyes move over to Connor and all color drains from his face. He looks terrified, though Connor knows he’s personally never done anything to evoke such a reaction from the stout human.

 

“H-Hank…?” Collins calls out, voice filled with trepidation, eyes flickering between Hank and Connor. Connor moves his eyes back onto Hank’s body, his Thirium pump beating wildly in his chest. He hopes they make it to Fowler’s office before a commotion happens.

 

“Not right now, Ben,” Hank says dismissively, waving a hand as an added gesture. “We’re busy.”

 

They move past the remaining desks, swing around the partition wall, and head around to the stairs leading to Fowler’s office. Connor sees Fowler focused intently on the large projection screen beside him, unaware of Hank and Connor’s approach.

 

The creak of a chair from the other side of the room draws Connor’s attention as they ascend the stairs. It seems Reed has finally noticed their presence in the room. He gawks at Connor and Hank for a moment before his face contorts in rage.

 

“What the fuck?!” Reed yells from across the room, aggressively standing up from his chair. Hank gives a heavy sigh as he opens the door to Fowler’s office. Connor feels Hank’s hand grab his arm, and suddenly he’s being pushed in front of Hank and into the room. Fowler turns as his door opens, his briefly curious expression turning to exasperation as Hank steps into the room behind Connor.

 

“Jesus, Hank,” Captain Fowler groans, burying his face in his hands. Hands grab back onto Connor, both his shoulders this time. Hank pushes him into the chair closest to Fowler, so Connor complies and sits. He folds his hands in his lap and hope he doesn’t look as awkward as he feels. 

 

Fowler takes his hands away from his face and glares up at Hank, who’s still standing behind Connor. “I told you that I’d think about what you said. That doesn’t mean you bring it back in the next fucking day!” Fowler finishes his sentence by raising his voice and pointing harshly at Connor. 

 

The door behind them is violently forced open, and Connor peers over as Reed storms into the office. “There ain’t no goddamn way you’re hiring on a fucking plastic tin can!” Reed yells, his chest rising and falling rapidly in his rage, his face a horrid shade of red. Hank shifts more to his right and Connor’s view of the man is blocked off by Hank’s body. “It fucking assaulted me in the evidence lab!”

 

Connor freezes, his internal fans stopping abruptly. He hadn’t thought of that. His methods to get around Reed in his effort to get to Jericho could very well stop him from getting this job. He could even be scrapped, or whatever they do to criminal androids now. Perhaps a bullet between his eyes. Reed would probably be the one to do it, too.

 

“Reed, if you don’t get the fuck out of my office, you can find a new job!” Fowler rages, voice echoing through the enclosed room. “See how well your dad takes to you losing your job over this,” he snarks, and Connor hears Reed sputtering behind Hank. 

 

He’s not sure why that would affect Reed so much, but he curses and storms back out of the room. Connor turns and can see Reed throwing a fit through the glass, knocking things off Collins’ and Hank’s desks as he stomps back to his own. 

 

Connor moves his attention back to Captain Fowler, who is now glaring back up at Hank. “You get out of my office too, Lieutenant Anderson. I want to talk to it-” He squints over at Connor for a moment, eyes roaming over him in displeasure. “... to Connor alone.” 

 

“Oh, come on, Jeffery! You know that I’m right, so just fucking hire him already,” Hank huffs, crossing his arms over his chest, giving his own glare back at Jeffery. 

 

“Get out of my office, or I’m calling Cyberlife and Kamski can take care of him.” Fowler threatens, his voice low and his hand inching towards the phone on his desk. Connor clenches his hands in his lap, an icy feeling spreading through him. He feels like Collins had looked earlier: terrified.

 

Hank growls in frustration, and takes a step back. “You’re fucking cruel when you want to, Jeffery,” he says, and Connor turns to watch him walk out of the room. Hank briefly glances back at Connor, but then shakes his head and descends the stairs. Connor takes a moment to watch as Hank angles the chair at his desk to watch Fowler’s office from where he’s sitting. Hank’s hand shoots up, middle finger extended, aimed at Reed across the room.

 

Kickstarting his cooling fans back on, Connor looks back at Fowler, taking in some comfort in Hank being able to see them from his desk. Fowler stares back at him, his eyes dark and unreadable as he leans back in his chair.

 

“So,” Fowler begins, his voice tense but attempting a professional tone. “Why do you want to work here?” He states the question like one would during the start of an interrogation. The calm before the storm. 

 

Connor sits up straighter, resisting the urge to adjust his tie, and speaks. “As an analytical Cyberlife prototype, my specific skills can be valuable to any forensic case. Cyberlife might have sent me for the deviant case, but my skills are designed to help in many different situations. It would be beneficial to the precinct to have me on a case, as I can detect things humans cannot and I can instantly analyze any samples on site.”

 

“And, with the city being divided between androids and humans, it would help integration in the future if an android were to be working alongside the police. This could be the tipping point that shows Congress that humans are willing to work as equals, enough that they might rule in favor of seeing us as our own species,” Connor finishes, hoping his words are convincing enough.

 

Fowler is silent for a moment, taking in Connor’s words, before he sighs. “Those are certainly good points,” he says, leaning forward again to rest his forearms on his desk. “But that wasn’t my question.”

 

Connor furrows his brow, repeating Fowler’s question back in his head. “I don’t understand,” he admits.

 

“Why do  _ you  _ want to work here?” Fowler repeats. “I know why Hank wants you back, any fool can see what his reasons are. But the question wasn’t what the benefits would be; I already know the pros and cons. So, again: why do  _ you  _ want to work here, Connor?”

 

Connor glances out the glass, to Hank, who’s leaned back in his chair now, talking to Collins and Wilson. Hank is a big reason why he wants to work here again, but not the only one. “I want to be useful,” he tells Fowler, turning to look him in the eyes. “I’m not good with other androids, I think. They’re all trying to rebuild with what they know, but I only know this.” He gestures around uselessly, hoping Fowler will catch his meaning. “I’m trying to learn new things, but this has so much…  _ potential  _ to do some good. I could be useful this way.” Connor leans forward slightly. “I don’t even care if I get paid or not, or if I get something small to do. I just want the chance to do some good.”

 

Fowler scratches at his face, and takes a moment to glance out the window of his office. Connor thinks he’s looking over at Hank, judging by the trajectory of his gaze. “There’s no guarantee that Congress with see any of you as people. I’m not going to lie to you, I will be surprised if they do rule in your favor,” he says, but heaves another sigh again. “But you’ve done a lot of good for Anderson. He hated androids not even four weeks ago, and now he’s in my fucking office every day trying to get you back in here.”

 

Connor blinks, a fluttering feeling going through his system. Fowler doesn’t seem to be the type to exaggerate, so Connor takes his words as fact.

 

“I haven’t seen him so driven about something since his boy passed. You even got him to actually focus on a case instead of him being wasted all the time,” Fowler continues, then gives Connor a flat look. “But I’m not as starry-eyed about you as he is. You did assault detective Reed - which I’m willing to overlook only because it’s Reed - but you have also shown you have a hard time listening to commands. That little stunt you pulled by chasing the deviants across the highway? That shit’s not going to fly around here.”

 

“I understand, sir,” Connor replies.

 

“I’ll hire you on for now,” Fowler says, and Connor feels his Thirium pump jolt in his chest. Fowler holds up a hand to stop Connor from speaking. “But, I want us to be on the same page here, so I’m going to be brutally honest with you. I’m only doing this for Hank and the publicity. It’s not that I don’t like you; it’s that I’m indifferent to you. But if you can get Hank to actually do his job and you don’t cause any issues here, you can join the force.”

 

Connor lifts his mouth into a relieved smile. “Thank you, sir. I’ll do my best.”

 

Fowler waves his hand dismissively. “Your pay won’t kick in until you get a bank account, which will have to be done after the evacuation is lifted. You’re smart enough to realize that that’s when Congress will have decided your fate. In the meantime, if anyone asks, we’re paying you minimum wage. You start Monday at nine in the morning, bring Lieutenant Anderson with you. And if you’re late you’re fired. Now get out of my office.” Fowler turns away from him, returning to his terminal. “Tell Hank he can leave for the day as well.”

 

Connor stands quickly, scheduling in his new work hours. “I look forwards to working with you and the others,” he says, genuine but short, knowing that Fowlers patience with him is limited. He pushes the chair back towards the table and head to the door.

 

While Fowler’s words were harsh, Connor can’t help but appreciate his brutal honesty. At least he knows where he stands with his new boss. 

 

Connor sees Hank look over at the sound of the glass door opening, and with Hank’s attention off the other two, they look over as well. Collins, thankfully, looks a little less scared, but still uncertain about Connor. Connor makes his way over to Hank’s desk, noting that Reed is no longer at his desk nor in the main lobby. 

 

Wilson, however, steps forward and extends his hand. “Hey,” he greets, an easy smile on his face. “It’s good to see you again.”

 

Connor blinks, looking down at Wilson’s hand before realizing the man wants to shake his hand. He reaches out, a little hesitant, but places his hand against Wilson’s. Wilson shakes his hand firmly, and Connor mimics his movement, hoping he’s doing it right. He’s never had someone shake his hand before; humans generally don’t shake hands with androids.

 

“I’m pleased to see you again, too,” Connor says, returning the smile. They drop hands, and Wilson shifts himself back to Hank’s desk. 

 

“About time you brought him back here, Hank.” Wilson’s mouth quirks in a grin. “Thought I was going to have to listen to you rant on about him for the rest of my life.” Collins laugh nervously beside Wilson.

 

Hank huffs and shakes his head, silver hair tousling from the movement. He leans forward against his desk, glaring at the two humans before him. “Just ‘cause you fuckers wouldn’t recognize a good partner when you have one, doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate having some help.” Hank turns his blue eyes to Connor, the glare softening. “Fowler hired you on, right? I can go be extra convincing if you need me to.”

 

Connor shakes his head. “There’s no need, Lieutenant. I start work on Monday morning.” 

 

“Like hell you do!” a voice growls behind him, and Connor turns to see Reed. He’d managed to get behind Connor without him noticing, and Connor’s glad he doesn’t see Reed’s gun on his person, although his phone is clenched tightly in his left hand. He’s still red-faced with rage, brows furrowed and eyes burning though Connor.

 

“All of you are insane!” Reed rages, gritting his teeth. “We can’t have a fucking plastic piece of shit working here!” His eyes turn a little desperate, glancing between Wilson and Collins. “We know Anderson’s fucking nuts, but the two of you shouldn’t be condoning this shit!”

 

Wilson steps forward around Connor, his hands raised in front of him like he’s trying to placate a wild animal. “Hey, Gavin, calm down a little. I know you hate them, and I was pretty indifferent myself, but they managed to keep a peaceful protest while they were getting gunned down. I can’t help but have some respect for that.”

 

The creak of a chair sounds behind Connor and his system registers a hand being placed on his back. Connor glances over and sees Hank’s stood up from his chair and is now next to him. 

 

“Androids aren’t so different from us, Reed,” Hanks gruff voice says, close to Connor’s auditory processors. If he were human he might shiver from the effects it has on his sensors. “You know we all used to feel differently. But with all the evidence that says otherwise, you’re just being a dick.”

 

Reed makes a noise of frustration and anger, an almost literal growl. He stalks closer, shoving past Wilson to get up close to Hank and Connor. Connor’s Thirium pump works double time in his chest, and he lowers his gaze, hoping not to antagonize Reed any further.

 

“Listen here, you overpriced bag of bolts,” Reed addresses Connor, getting as close to his face as he can with his short stature. “You’re not human,” he emphasizes his words with a poke to Connor’s chest. “You will  _ never  _ be human. And as soon as Congress gives the go ahead to scrap the lot of you, you’re the first one I’m putting a bullet in.” 

 

Connor feels the cold icy feeling of terror flow through his system again. But he’s tired of feeling terrified of Gavin Reed of all people, a man who couldn’t even tell the difference between a strangulation and a heart attack. Connor can feel Hank getting worked up beside him, the older man gearing up to defend Connor. 

 

Before Hank has a chance to step in, Connor lifts his eyes to lock them onto Reed’s. “You’re right. I’m not human,” he begins, his voice steady. “I’m stronger, more resilient, and I’ve already demonstrated that I can take you in a fight.”

 

Hank snorts, his hand coming up to cover his mouth in an attempt to cover his laugh. He takes his hand away briefly to say: “Try me, bitch,” in a voice that suggest he’s quoting something. 

 

Reed’s face turns an even deeper shade of red. “Fuck you, Anderson!” he yells. “Fuck you and your-”

 

“Reed!”

 

Fowler’s voice rings through the precinct. Connor looks over with the rest of them and sees Captain Fowler standing in front of his door, looking thoroughly unimpressed with the lot of them. “Reed, get your ass in my office. Now!” 

 

Gavin huffs, and glares back at Connor before he steps away, stomping off and up the stairs into Fowler’s office. Fowler stays on his landing, looking out over them for a moment. “The rest of you, go home. There ain’t a goddamn thing happening here except you lot causing drama.”

 

A chorus of “Yes, sir.” fills the room and Wilson and Collins move away from Hank’s desk. Fowler watches them for a moment before he moves back into his office. 

 

Hank pats Connor’s back briefly, stepping around him. “Alright, let’s go,” he says, and Connor moves to follow after him.

 

Wilson joins them on their way out of the precinct, his keys in hand, a backpack hanging off his shoulder. “Don’t let Reed get you down, Connor,” he says, stepping forward to hold the door open for both Hank and Connor. “He talks a big game, but he’s pretty harmless.”

 

“Thank you, Mr. Wilson,” Connor replies with a thankful smile as he and Hank step through the door.

 

“My name’s Fin. Mr. Wilson sounds too much like you’re talking to my dad,” Wilson – Fin – tells him. “And Collin’s is Ben. He’ll probably be a little less freaked out the next time he sees you.”

 

“Ben’ll come around,” Hank says, walking a bit slower to be at the same pace as Connor and Fin. “We’ll have to watch out for Reed though. He might be more bark than bite when it comes to humans, but he’s already tried to attack Connor before.”

 

Fin chuckles and Connor feels his hand pat him on the shoulder. “Like Connor said, he can take Reed in a fight. But yeah, man, I’ll watch over our new rookie.” Fin moves away as they get to the parking garage, walking over to his car. “I’ll see the both of you Monday!” he calls out.

 

Hank lifts a hand in a wave and Connor copies the gesture. “I like Fin,” he tells Hank, looking up at the older human. “He’s nice.”

 

Hank’s blue eyes meet his, the corners of his mouth twitching and a breath like a laugh escapes him. “Yeah, he’s a good man,” Hank says in response, turning back and walking to his car.

 

Connor follows after him and slides into the passenger seat when Hank unlocks the car. He starts the engine, and the smooth tones of jazz start filling the car again. “Your talk with Fowler go alright?” Hank asks, putting his car in drive and working his way out of the parking garage.

 

He thinks back to Fowler’s harsh words, but all things considered his meeting could have gone a lot worse. “I believe so,” he replies. At least Fowler hasn’t followed up on his threat to call Cyberlife. 

 

“He can be a bit harsh sometimes, so don’t take any mean things he might have said to heart. Jeffery didn’t make it to captain by being nice all the time.” Hank turns a corner, taking a route Connor calculates will take them to Hank’s house the fastest. 

 

“I just appreciate him giving me the opportunity to put the skills I have to good use,” Connor admits. 

 

“And did he discuss your pay?”

 

Connor hesitates. Fowler told him to what to tell others, but something tells him Hank won’t be pleased to hear he won’t be getting paid for an undetermined amount of time. He doesn’t want to lie to Hank, but he’s not too sure what to tell the older human. “It... didn’t come up,” he settles on, turning his head to face out the front windshield.

 

“Uh-huh,” Hank hums, and Connor can practically feel Hank’s blue eyes burning through his skull. “And you’re a shitty liar.”

 

A heavy weight settles in his core, and a terrible feeling courses through him. “I’m sorry,” he quickly says, turning to face Hank once again. “I didn’t think you’d be happy with the truth.” His fingers tangle with each other and squeeze at the base of his knuckles. If he could feel, he might feel his synthetic fingernails digging into his synthetic skin. 

 

Hank returns his gaze back to the road. “So, he’s not going to pay you.” He sighs, then smacks his hand against the steering wheel. “What an ass!” 

 

“He’s not going to pay me  _ yet _ ,” Connor explains; he should have just told the truth in the first place. “I don’t have any need for money, and Captain Fowler wants to see what Congress’s decision on androids will be. It won’t do the precinct any good to lose money if Congress decides against us...”

 

“That’s not the point, Connor!” Hank exclaims. “The point was to pay you, so that you’re actually seen as an equal! Now we’re right back where we were a few weeks ago. We can’t just tell the media you’re getting paid and have them believe it at face value; they dig into that shit.”

 

“Perhaps we can talk to him again on Monday and get him to change his mind?” Connor suggests. He hadn’t really thought about the media aspect of it. Hank was right. Having gained the sympathy from the media, they weren’t likely to just accept an android as a paid worker without the appropriate proof.

 

“Damn right we are,” Hank growls, pulling his car into his driveway. He kills the car and sits back in his seat for a moment, neither of them making a move to get out of the car. “I need you to not lie to me about stuff like that, Connor.” He runs a hand over his face and meets eyes with Connor. “I need you to tell me when someone’s trying to give you the short end of the stick. Things are going to be rough these next few months, but we need to cut that shit down early. You understand?”

 

Connor nods. 

 

Hank watches him a moment longer, blue eyes shifting through various emotions that Connor can’t quite catch. He sighs and eventually moves to open the door to his car. “Come on, Connor.”

 

Connor feels a warmth settle in his system. Hank had demonstrated that he’s concerned for him and his future at the precinct. He’ll have to find some way to dissuade Hank’s concerns. 

 

Connor steps out of the vehicle, grabs his laundry and follows behind the Lieutenant into his house. 

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello
> 
> Please be sure to look at the tags for this chapter. 
> 
> Nothing major, but the warnings still apply.

Stepping inside Hank’s house feels comfortable, like Connor has been there many times before, as opposed to the more accurate total of once. The house has a comfortable, lived-in feeling to it, with books, dog toys, and jazz memorabilia scattered throughout. All those things are hard to make out in the dark entryway, though, despite the light streaming in through the windows and from the television. Loud noises and voices come from the TV, which seems to be playing some children’s program.

 

Sumo lifts his head from his spot by the computer desk, giving a low woof in greeting, and lumbering to a stand. He trots over to them, his tail wagging behind him as he moves past Hank to give Connor’s pants a curious sniff. 

 

Hank gives a snort that turns into a soft chuckle. “Told you he missed you.” 

 

“Hello, Sumo,” Connor greets, smiling fondly at the dog. Hank moves to take his jacket off, hanging it on the nearby coat rack, then reaches out to turn on the lamp next to the bookcase. The light fills the room in warm tones from the yellowed bulb, and Connor shifts his hold on his laundry to one arm, extending his other so that his right hand is placed before Sumo’s curious sniffs. He wonders what he smells like to the dog’s senses, but he figures it’s probably a mix of the materials he’s made of. Metal, plastic, and the chemical smell of Thirium, most likely. 

 

Sumo gives his hand a few steady licks, the thick slobber coating most of Connor’s hand. Connor moves his hand away to wipe the drool off on his pants, then goes to pet along Sumo’s soft-looking fur. Sumo presses into the touch as his tail wags more enthusiastically, and sits on his haunches before Connor. 

 

Hank moves towards the couch, leaning over the back to pick up a rag, before turning back to Connor. “Here, trade me,” he says, holding out the rag for Connor to take. Connor looks at it curiously, so Hank quickly elaborates. “I’ll take care of washing your clothes, if you’ll keep Sumo busy. The laundry machines are out in the garage and he hates that he can’t go out there. This is his drool rag, use this instead of your clothing if he starts slobbering on you.”

 

Connor reaches up to take the rag from Hank, and hands over his pile of clothes. “Thank you, Lieutenant,” he says with a smile. While Connor wants to help, he would only be in Hank’s way, and any time he can spend with Sumo feels like a privilege. “I really appreciate you helping me.” 

 

Hank shakes his head, the corners of his mouth pulled down into a frown. “None of that ‘Lieutenant’ crap. We’re in my house, you can just call me Hank.” 

 

“Alright, Hank,” Connor says with a nod. “I’ll keep Sumo distracted.”

 

“I’ve got an older washing machine, so it might take me a few minutes to get it up and running properly. Feel free to have a seat and change the channel,” Hank tells him, shifting the small pile in his arms, before he steps away to head down the hallway. “I only keep it on cartoons so Sumo won't be lonely while I’m gone,” he explains, voice getting a bit distant the further he goes until Connor hears the sound of a door opening. 

 

Sumo’s ears perk up at the sound, his head turning as his tail beats a steady rhythm against the floor. He shifts, like he’s going to try and follow Hank to the garage, so Connor steps in front of the large dog to block his path. The sound of the door closing lets Connor know that even if Sumo makes it around him he won't be able to get out into the garage. 

 

“Hey, Sumo,” Connor greets again, crouching in front of the large dog. “Do you want to play with one of your toys?” he suggests, turning to look for a close-by toy. Pressure registers on the side of his face that suggests Sumo has leaned in to eagerly lick along his face and over his auditory component. The sound in his right ear goes a bit fritzy, a faint rasp as the dog’s tongue slobbers over his synthetic skin then up into his hair. Connor scans around and finds the leg of a plush toy sticking out from under the couch. Shifting the drool rag onto his shoulder, Connor reaches over to pull out the stuffed animal. 

 

Pulling it out reveals a cream-colored bunny with floppy ears. It’s small enough to have been pushed up under the couch, but large enough to have gotten stuck once there. The rabbit seems in decent condition, only a few tatters here and there. Either a new toy recently lost under the couch, or perhaps one Sumo takes care not to be too aggressive with. Connor’s scan reveals a small ball in the stomach area of the rabbit, so he gives it a squeeze and gets a high-pitched squeak in return. 

 

Sumo ceases his licking, and zones in on the toy in Connor’s hands. He gives a series of loud barks, his tail wagging faster than Connor’s ever seen it before, then promptly snaps forward to tug the toy out of Connor’s hands. A long trail of drool starts to drip from his jowls, so Connor reaches up with the rag to wipe it away before it has a chance to drip onto the wood floor. 

 

With the bunny hanging from his teeth, Sumo moves away from him and walks to the front of the couch. Connor stands up, using the rag to dry off any excess slobber from his face and hair, watching as Sumo settles down in front of the television. The large dog uses his snout to move the bunny around on his paws so that he can lay his head on it, content to cuddle with the toy in front of the television.

 

Connor smiles at the scene, glad to have found something Sumo obviously enjoys. He’s also kind of sad Sumo’s lost interest in him, but at least he’s done a good job distracting him for Hank.

 

Glancing around Hank’s house, Connor notices the mess Hank has made by simply living in his house. It’d been messy when Connor had first been here, but then again Connor had had other concerns aside from what state Hanks house had been in. Now, though, seeing so many beer bottles, dirty dishes, empty pizza boxes - possibly the same ones from three weeks ago - and other various piles of trash, Connor realizes he might have a way to thank Hank for his hospitality. 

 

Any attempt he makes at helping Hank clean has got to be better than Hank’s tried-and-true method of not cleaning at all. 

 

He returns Sumo’s rag to the couch where Hank had picked it up from, and unbuttons the cuffs around his wrists to roll them up his forearms. Connor decides he’ll start with the dishes first. While he’s never cleaned any himself, he’s seen a lot of people in his time at the precinct cleaning out their mugs of coffee or tupperwares. Run some water, pour some soap and scrub until clean, either leave on drying rack or dry with a clean towel; easy enough.

 

Connor collects any dishes he sees in the living room, which seem to be mainly silverware from the various takeout boxes. He stacks them on one of the few plates and carries those to the kitchen sink, then turns to collect what he can from the small dining room table.

 

A glint of silver catches his eyes and he freezes. A shiver runs through his system, a feeling like the terror he’d felt earlier but worse. Much, much worse.  

 

Hank’s .357 revolver sits inconspicuously amongst the rest of the items along the table, but Connor vividly remembers it from the last time he was here: Hank passed out on the floor, unconscious with the gun nearby. ‘Russian Roulette,’ Hank had called out, almost proudly, when Connor had questioned him about it. Then, later, Hank’s own remarks about trying to kill himself little by little every day.

 

Obviously, just because Hank seems better that doesn’t mean he is. Suicidal people aren’t just cured in one night, nor because they’ve found their soulmate. Not that Hank knows that, as certainly Hank would have mentioned it if he’d been affected like Connor had during their hug. So, at the very least, he hopes that if Hank sees him in any way, that it’s at least as a friend.

 

But then, Connor hadn’t tried making contact with Hank in the two weeks between seeing him last and when Hank decided to make the first move in tracking him down. 

 

What kind of friend - or soulmate for that matter; though he hadn’t known at the time - is he to Hank that he left him alone for two weeks, knowing full well that Hank’s suicidal? How often in those two weeks had Hank sat here in this spot at the table, all alone, with the revolver pressed to his temple just aching to pull the trigger? Or, even worse, actually pulling it only to discover that it wasn’t the chamber with the bullet in it, but perhaps the next one would be?

 

Anything could have happened to Hank in that time and Connor wouldn’t have found out until it was too late. Weeks, even months could have gone by before the news might have reached him. If at all. What would he have done if he’d finally decided to check what Hank was up to, only for it to lead him to a gravestone?

 

He never would have even known Hank was his soulmate. Connor could have lost that chance forever, simply because he assumed Hank had left like all the other humans. Sure, he had always wondered what Hank had been up to, but that doesn’t excuse the fact that he never made the attempt to check in on his friend. 

 

Connor forces himself to turn away, legs feeling shaky and unsteady, like his limbs don’t want to support his weight. He’s not going to bother searching the table for any more dishes. He doesn’t want to see his failure staring back at him in the form of a gun. He forces himself over to the sink, gripping the counter with trembling hands.

 

He’ll be a better friend to Hank, he promises silently, to himself and to Hank. 

 

Once Connor feels the tremors stop, he reaches out to turn on the water and begins the task of cleaning the dishes. Thankfully he finds the soap and a scrub brush located nearby, and the job is methodical enough that he can think things through without using too much computing power towards the task his hands are occupied with.

 

He might have a way to make it up to Hank, for being so absent these last few weeks. If Connor can find a way to come around more often to keep Hank company, maybe his human won’t be so tempted to take his own life. Perhaps he can even find a way to remove Hank’s biggest temptation: his revolver. By Hank’s own admission, he doesn’t have the courage to do it himself. Seems he’d much rather leave it to chance and a spin of the chamber, and when that doesn’t work, to unhealthy food and copious amounts of alcohol. 

 

Disposing of the gun in some fashion sounds ideal, but Connor doesn’t want to steal from Hank, and it’s very unlikely that Hank will simply let him take it if he asks. It’s an older piece, outdated by several years, so chances are it could even be an heirloom; which means outright disposing of it is something that Hank is likely to strongly disapprove of. 

 

There’s also the possibility of Hank getting a new one to replace the revolver if he’s determined enough. Maybe getting the gun itself out of the house isn’t what he should be focusing on, especially since Hank is guaranteed to notice its absence sooner rather than later. 

 

He might be able to take the bullet from the revolver’s chamber today, which would only leave finding where Hank keeps the rest of the ammunition. He’s unlikely to get out of here with that, but if he can stash it somewhere Hank won’t find it...

 

Now all Connor has to do is just think of a plan solid enough that even someone as sharp-eyed as Hank won’t notice that he’s up to something. 

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Hank’s voice startles Connor out of his thoughts, so deep in them he hadn’t noticed the door to the garage opening, nor Hanks footsteps through the hallway. The plate Connor was scrubbing off clatters loudly as it slips from his grasp, thankfully not breaking. Connor looks over his shoulder to see Hank storm over. “Nope, you’re not doing this. It’s not allowed,” he commands, moving beside Connor to reach out and turn off the faucet. He stands close enough that his chest is almost pressed against the back of Connor’s shoulder. 

 

Connor blinks, looking down at his sudsy hands and the rest of the dishes in the sink. “I just wanted to help,” he clarifies, turning back to lock eyes with his soulmate’s steely blue gaze. Connor finds he really likes the color of Hank’s eyes, especially coupled with the silver of his hair and the darker grey of his beard. 

 

“Yeah, no,” Hank says forcefully, shaking his head. Their hands brush briefly enough for Connor to feels the residual heat in his hands from the tap water, before Hank’s tugging the scrub brush from Connor’s hand. “Look, I know the house is a mess, but I didn’t bring you here to clean up after me. I’ll get around to it eventually.”

 

“I don’t mind,” Connor reassures, offering Hank a placating smile. He sees that Hank’s changed out of his patterned button-up, opting to lounge in the t-shirt he wears underneath. “Really, it’s no hassle. Besides-” He motions to what he’s managed to get through during his time thinking. A sizeable stack is already nestled into the drying rack, overflowing out onto where he’s set them out evenly spaced to dry on the counter. Only a few plates and pieces of silverware remain dirty in the sink. “I was almost done.” 

 

“I don’t care,” Hank tells him, reaching across Connor’s chest to grip his opposite shoulder, and Connor easily turns from the sink when Hank pushes him away. He wishes that he wasn’t wearing long sleeves, so Hank could be touching his skin directly again. He wonders what the bubbles on his hands feel like as they pop in the air, wonders if the synthetic skin of his hands is still radiating with the warmth from the hot water. 

 

Keeping a grip on both his shoulders, Connor is steered out of the kitchen area and back into the living room. Sumo’s head moves from the cartoon program to watch them as Hank pushes him to sit on the closest couch, his tail thumping behind him as they get closer to him. “Now, sit and  _ relax _ . You’re my guest, not a fucking maid.”

 

“Of course I’m not,” Connor agrees, looking up at Hank, who is still standing, arms crossed over his chest instead of gripping Connor, a frown settled deep on his face. “I wasn’t able to help with the laundry, but I can at least help you with some of the cleaning to make up for it.”

 

Hank squints at him for a moment, before a sigh escapes his lips. “Look,” he starts, uncrossing his arms and resting them akimbo. “I know this place is a bit of a dump - and that’s completely on me, I know - but I’m not going to have you clean up around here.” 

 

“Then you’ll do it?” Connor questions, tilting his head and raising an eyebrow slightly. 

 

“Yes!” Hank exclaims, before he glances around at the empty takeout boxes and beer bottles strewn about, and a grimace crosses his face. “You know, eventually!”

 

Connor smiles. “How about I help you clean up now then? Two people can get more work done faster than just one person. And we have time to waste while we’re waiting on the laundry to finish,” he presents to Hank. While Hank could probably think of lots of other things he’d rather do, it might be good for him to try and clean up a bit. “You can put one of your records on while we clean. I’ve heard that humans like to do lots of activities to music.”

 

Hank snorts softly, not looking particularly happy, but nowhere near being mad or upset about being asked to clean. “Fuck. Fine, if it’ll get you off my balls about it!” He turns away from Connor to march the few steps to the record player, muttering and cursing under his breath. Hank picks up the nearby remote to the television, and the cartoonish noises cease. “Sure, let’s fucking clean,” he gripes, voice practically dripping sarcasm. 

 

“It’ll be over before you know it,” Connor assures, giving Sumo a loving pet on the way as he moves into the kitchen, leaving Hank to thumb through his vinyl collection. “I’ll finish up the dishes,” he calls back to Hank, reaching the sink and turning on the faucet once more.

 

Then, using the noise of the water and Hank making his record selection as a distraction, he moves back over to the dining room table. Working quickly, he picks up the revolver, opens the chamber and slides out the only bullet. Carefully, he closes the chamber and sets the gun back on the table quietly and precisely in the position it once was. Hank, with his human senses, will never notice Connor’s messed with his gun. At least until he pops the chamber open again. 

 

Music starts playing, and Hank gives a groan from where he’s hidden from Connor’s view - likely having stood up from his crouched position.

 

Quickly slipping the bullet into the pocket of his pants, Connor moves back to the sink. 

 

He sets about cleaning the rest of the dishes, auditory senses picking up the noises of Hank moving around behind him. The dulcet tones of the record Hank has chosen start off slow and soft, before the sweet voice of a female vocalist starts to sing to the music. 

 

She sings softly, the lyrics depicting a slightly troubled romance between the singer and her lover. It seems odd that Hank would want to listen to this song while cleaning, but then again Connor had mostly been expecting Hank to put on something with more bass and screaming lyrics. 

 

Hank moves closer to the counter next to Connor, picking up each different item of trash as he goes. Connor can faintly hear Hank humming along with the music, and when he glances over at the human, Hank has a soft sway to his movements. He isn’t out right dancing; just a subtle fluidity to his movements that Hank himself might not even notice he’s doing. A warm feeling settles in Connor’s lower torso, and he can’t help the smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth as he turns back to finish scrubbing the last plate. 

 

Setting the plate on the counter to dry, he turns to help Hank collect the rest of the trash. He starts in the living room, collecting a handful of empty beer bottles to deposit in the trash can Hank has moved to the middle of the kitchen for easy access. Sumo stays in his spot, still with his head resting on his bunny toy, not bothered by the two humanoids working around his space. 

 

Between the two of them, it doesn’t take them long to finish collecting all the trash. Connor even helps sweep the dining room when he detects traces of glass still near the window he’d broken weeks before. Most of the larger shards had been picked up, but it looks like no attempt of sweeping up the small chunks had been made. The broken window has a thin piece of cardboard covering it to block out the chill of winter, but Hank has yet to have it replaced. Connor had personally sent him the money deposit from Cyberlife, so perhaps the man is waiting for other humans to return to Detroit to fix it.

 

By the time they’re finished, most of the record has gone by. Connor hadn’t really taken note of when each different song had played, every song from this particular vinyl sounding very similar to the first one. Despite that, Connor can see why Hank likes this singer; she’s soothing and melancholic, and if Connor knew anything about music he’d be able to tell exactly what it was about her style that gives it an extra edge.

 

They gather up the accumulated trash bags, and Hank looks around the now clean kitchen. He heaves a sigh, one that sounds more accomplished than anything. “Well, guess you were right. That didn’t take too long,” he says. “Let me check your laundry, then we can take these out to the curb.”

 

“Alright,” Connor replies easily. Hank being out in the garage should give him just enough time to search the kitchen cabinets to see if that’s where Hank keeps his spare bullets.

 

Hank steps away and Connor watches him shoulder-open the door to the garage. A scraping noise sounds behind Connor, and Sumo rushes past him in an attempt to get into the garage. Hank curses softly, but manages to close the door just in time. Sumo gives a loud whine, scratching against the surface of the door, trying to get out, only to get a muffled yell from Hank telling him to stop. 

 

Sumo sits back on his haunches and stares at the door with a noisy huff. Connor’s torn between tempting the dog away from the door and going about his planned task, but searching for the bullets has to take priority.

 

The first cabinet he opens is the one directly under the sink, where most humans generally keep cleaning supplies and a variety of different things. He peers past the cleaning bottles and copious amounts of booze, moving some of them to check in the very back, and frowns when he comes up with nothing. He closes the doors and realizes the first hurdle in his already lax plan: even if he does find a box of bullets, he doesn’t really have a way to get it out of the house without Hank noticing. Smuggling out one bullet in his pocket is nothing compared to a full box, and Hank would be suspicious if Connor tried to use his laundry to sneak out the ammunition. 

 

Maybe he could find something to bring the next time to hide it in. But he’s not sure how bad Hank’s mental state is at the moment; if he’s close to the edge or at a decent enough place where he’s not tempted to pull the trigger. The only issue is that he doesn’t have an excuse to come back tomorrow; not unless he makes up something.

 

He already feels bad for having to lie to Hank, but now that he’s not feeling the pressure of Hank’s eyes on him he can think of a better way to lie. 

 

He hears the door to the garage open, so he stands and moves back to his spot by the trash bags. Hank curses as he pushes Sumo out of the way, using his own bulk to keep the St. Bernard from pushing past him. Connor pulls up the notification of his LED while Hank is distracted and forces the file to a yellow alert and turning his focus before him in what he hopes is a pensive expression.

 

With his LED already spinning yellow, Hank should have no reason to think he’s lying to him about this.

 

Hank walks over to him, Sumo following on his heels, but he slows to a stop just before he makes it out of the hallway. “Hey, Connor, what’s up?” Hank asks, a frown tugging down the corner of his mouth.

 

Connor forces himself to blink, like Hank had pulled his attention away from his internal thoughts. “Did you say something, Hank?” he asks, checking to make sure his yellow alert file is still active.

 

“Is something wrong?” Hank reiterates, absentmindedly petting the top of Sumo’s head when the dog presses for his attention.

 

“I just got a message from Markus,” Connor lies. He freezes the red alert that tries to pop up, turning the side of his head with the LED slightly away from Hank just in case he hadn’t acted fast enough. “I apologize, but can I return tomorrow to pick up my clothes? His message sounded urgent.”

 

“Uhhh…” Hank draws out the sound before he gives a shrug. “I don’t see why not. Everything alright in android paradise?”

 

Connor bends down to pick up two of the trash bags before him, using the milliseconds in between to think of something. “I hope so. His message seemed deliberately vague,” he settles on.

 

Hank moves into the living room. “Let me grab my jacket.” He crosses the room to do just that. He then comes back to the trash pile, bending down to pick up his half of the trash. “Jesus, these are heavy,” he comments.

 

Connor stops the yellow alert, his LED spinning back to calm blue, and moves past Hank, the weight of the trash, while considerable, not hampering his movement. He passes off one bag to his other hand and opens the front door. 

 

“Let Sumo out,” Hank calls behind him, just as Sumo bounds out the door and into the front yard. Connor holds the door open for Hank, and then, together, the both of them take the trash to the curb where the much larger trashcan is. 

 

Sumo hops around in front of them for a moment, his paws making large indents in the fresh snow, barking loudly as he plays around the yard. Connor can’t help the smile that finds its way to his lips - the dog’s excitement is palpable and a bit contagious. 

 

He looks over at Hank to give Sumo some privacy when the dog squats beside the house to use the bathroom. Hank's cool blue eyes are already on him when he turns, and Connor once again realizes how pleasing Hank is to look at.

 

Hank watches him for a moment, the two of them standing by the curb, the quiet of the city block a muted blanket around them. Hank licks his lips slightly, and finally breaks eye contact. “I, uh….” he pauses and Connor watches as Hank tucks one hand into the pocket of his jeans. “I should give this back to you.”

 

Hank pulls out his hand and produces a small quarter between two of his fingers. Connor can clearly make out the year 1994 printed on the coin, that suggests, along with Hank’s words, this to be the exact coin Hank had confiscated from him a few weeks ago. The jeans that Hank is currently wearing are a much lighter wash than the ones he’d worn when he took the coin, and Connor wonders if Hank has kept the coin on his person, transferring it from pocket to pocket up until this moment. 

 

“Thank you,” Connor replies, reaching up to take the quarter from Hank, his senses flaring to life when his fingers brush Hank’s, causing him to shiver slightly at the cold temperature. “I’m glad to finally have a chance to recalibrate. I’ll try not to do it so often around you since it bothers you so much,” Connor reassures.

 

“Fuck, that’s what you use that thing for?” Hank sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He seems frustrated, but Connor’s not sure why. “Shit…” he curses, blue eyes glaring at the snow near his shoes. “I only took it to be an ass; use it as much as you like.”

 

Connor rolls the quarter between his fingers, then flicks it in the air with his thumb, producing a soft ting sound, catching it just as quickly as he tossed it. He keeps a close eye on Hank’s face to see if it truly bothers him, but when no change happens in his expression, Connor flicks it up into the air again. “It’s not a necessity. I’m certainly capable of performing the calibrations without it…” He switches to rolling it across his knuckles, rocking his hand back and forth in a soft rhythm. “It just helps, somehow.”

 

Sumo trots back over to them, panting slightly at the excretion of his time playing in the snow. Connor quickly pockets his quarter, reaching out to scratch behind the dog's floppy ears affectionately. “Bye, Sumo. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Sumo’s tail wags behind him, happy for the attention and the soft voice Connor speaks to him with. 

 

“Back to the house, Sumo,” Hank speaks, moving back to the house. Sumo trots behind him loyally, but rebelliously stops to flop and roll around in the snow every few steps. Eventually he makes it up the few steps and enters the house with a whine. “Be good while I’m gone,” Hank commands through the door he just shut, and takes a moment to lock up.

 

Connor makes his way over to the passenger side door of Hank’s car and slides in when Hank unlocks the vehicle. Hank slides into the driver seat and starts the car. They sit in silence for a moment while the engine heats back up, and Connor takes the quarter out of his pocket once again. 

 

It feels nice having it back. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed flicking it back and forth until he’s able to do it once again. Connor pulls up his diagnostics and starts the calibration process, tossing the quarter a few times, then rolling it in his fingers. He can feel Hank’s eyes on him as he concentrates, but he seems more curious than upset this time. 

 

Hank finally puts the car into reverse and carefully pulls out of the driveway. “You know,” Hank begins. “I never thought I’d see an android that fidgets before I met you. Didn’t even think it was possible.”

 

Connor mimics a hum with his voice box, like he’s heard Hank do a few times. “I’ve yet to come across another android that does.” His movements with the coin falter slightly, his calibration flashing in response. “I’m a prototype, so, had things happened differently, they probably would have removed such a weird quirk in the upgraded model.”

 

“And you’d have been deactivated,” Hank says, a slight growl to his voice. “I don’t give a shit about some fancy upgraded model; it probably would have been an even bigger prick than you were at first. At least you have some likeable qualities.”

 

A grin makes its way to Connors mouth before he’s able to stop it. “Thank you, Lieu-” He cuts himself off, then tries again. “Thank you, Hank,” he says genuinely, fingers still working the coin. 

 

Hank looks over at him, face contorted like he wasn’t sure why exactly Connor was thanking him. “Anyway, I’m thinking of taking Sumo to the park tomorrow afternoon.” He changes the subject, turning back to focus on driving. “I can bring your clothes and give them to you there.”

 

The coin slips from Connor’s grasp, bouncing off the dash with a sharp ping, then falling down onto the floor. Hank glances over at him, eyebrow raised in question, and Connor’s LED sends up a red alert. Leave it to Hank’s human unpredictability to mess with Connor’s plan. 

 

“I- Sorry.” Connor quickly says, reaching down to scoop up the quarter. “That’s fine.” It wasn’t, but he has nothing he can tell Hank so he can make it back to his house tomorrow. 

 

Hank side-eyes him some more, before finally giving a shrug. “It’s just the park. Not like there’s anything else to do on my day off, so I figured Sumo could use the exercise.”

 

“I’ll be there,” Connor promises, with nothing else to say. “What time?”

 

Hank gives another shrug. “That depends what time I wake up, I guess. How about I message you when I’m up and about?”

 

Connor gives a nod of agreement. “That will work.”

 

They sit in silence the rest of the drive, the mood suddenly awkward. Connor continuously fidgets with his quarter, looking out the passenger window as the buildings pass by.

 

Hank turns the car onto the street that leads to the apartment complex and gives a low whistle. Connor turns his head to face forward, to see what Hank is reacting to.

 

“That’s a  _ nice  _ car!” Hank comments, stressing the word ‘nice’ in his admiration of a sleek black sports car that sits in front of… well, it’s currently parked right in front of the androids’ apartment building. A cursory glance reveals that no one is around. The androids that should be hard at work repairing the outside of the building are suspiciously absent. 

 

Connor frowns, putting his coin in his pocket, as they park behind the new model car. In the few weeks he’s spent with the rest of the androids he’s not once see this car. He makes to scan the license plate and gets a reflective void where there should be numbers. Whoever owns this car has some type of license plate blocker on, much to Connor disgruntlement. 

 

“Man, I’ve never seen a babe like that in person but, wow, is she _gorgeous_!” Hank says emphatically. Connor feels something ugly twist inside him before he realizes Hank’s still commenting about the car. “Tell Markus that he’s got to let me drive that some time, will you?”

 

“I’m not sure this is Markus’ car…” Connor replies, warily glancing over at Hank. Surely the man doesn’t have some type of… automobile fetish, right? He’s heard some humans are into things like that. 

 

“Okay, well, find out whose it is and tell them to give me a test drive sometime,” Hank pleads.

 

“Got it,” Connor says, with the intention to do the exact opposite. He probably shouldn’t judge if Hank is into that type of stuff, but well, the man is lusting after a car of all things.

 

Hank squints at him, likely taking his meaning from his words and snorts. “Alright, time for you to get out.”

 

With a nod, Connor opens the door and steps out. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Hank,” he says, waiting for Hank’s reply before he shuts the door.

 

“Yeah, I’ll text you. Now shut the door, you’re letting the hot air out,” Hank gripes, turning his wheel away from the curb but not letting off the break just yet.

 

Connor, perhaps for the first time in his existence, rolls his eyes and closes the door. Hank gives a wave through the window as he pulls away and disappears down the street. Looking back at the suspicious car, but not able to discern anything else from it, he makes his way to the silent building, his senses on high alert for any possible danger.

 

He steps through the front threshold and sees a lone figure standing off to the side against one of the walls of the lobby. Blue eyes turn to look at him and a smile tugs on the figure’s lips.

 

“Connor! It’s good to see you again.” 

 

Connor blinks, confused. “Chloe?”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments give me fuel to keep writing ;)


	6. Chapter 6

“Chloe?” 

 

Connor is, understandably, confused. 

 

Chloe stands there, pristine and pretty in a dark blue dress and heels, but so very out of place in this dilapidated building. Connor looks around, noting the empty lobby and the utter silence around him. Only a few creaks of footsteps can be heard through the ceiling above. 

 

“I'm so glad you're here,” she says, her smile turning a bit more genuine. Then her lips purse into a pout. “I tried talking to some of the other androids, but they're understandably a bit suspicious of me...”

 

She seems very relaxed around someone who had once held a gun to her head. She actually looks happy to see him, in fact, and Connor’s not sure what to do with that information. A bit like Simon, Chloe is hard to look at. The guilt of what he'd almost done eats away inside him.

 

Connor looks back at the car outside; shiny, sleek, and overpriced. Now that he sees Chloe, it seems obvious that it's Kamski’s car. Which means- “Kamski's not here, is he?” 

 

Connor can only imagine the other androids’ reactions to meeting their creator. He'd experienced no feelings of existential crisis when meeting the man, but the same cannot be said for everyone. There's no way to judge if the man would be safe amongst his own creations or if they would react violently. And if Kamski is here, Connor hopes that North isn't. 

 

Of anyone, she's the one most likely to punch her creator.

 

Chloe shakes her head. “No. Elijah sent me to talk with Markus and the other leaders of New Jericho.” Her LED is still blue but spinning a little faster. “Which you're one of the leaders of, right?”

 

She looks hopeful, like she expects his answer to be a swift yes, and he can’t find it in him to disappoint her. “‘New Jericho’?” he questions instead.

 

Her head tilts slightly, and a confused look crosses her features. “Is it not called that? Elijah mentioned it, I guess I just assumed it was official.” Her mouth turns to a grin and her eyes sparkle with happiness. “It's nice though, right? Like a phoenix!”

 

Connor sifts through his database for a possible definition. Phoenix: A mythical bird creature that dies in fire, and is then reborn amongst its own ashes. In an abstract way, Connor can see what Chloe's talking about; they blew up Old Jericho, after all.

 

“I don't think the others have thought of a name just yet. I'll try and suggest it to them,” he says, looking away from her when he hears footsteps coming down the stairs.

 

Markus is the first he sees appear on the steps. Following closely behind him is North, who looks upset. Even from the entrance of the building, Connor can tell her eyes are sad and distant, her mouth turned down at the corners, and her hand gripping Markus’ tight, though their synthetic skin is still in place.

 

Connor feels his chest fill with concern. He doesn't like North looking like this; uncertain and small next to Markus. 

 

“Can I help you?” Markus asks Chloe as he steps closer, leading North along behind him. He gives a nod of greeting to Connor, but quickly turns his attention back to Chloe. He eyes her distrustfully, his body placed strategically in front of North as if he thinks Chloe might attack at any moment. “Some of the others said you were a representative sent by Cyberlife?”

 

Chloe shifts to fully face Markus, and gives him a dazzling smile. “That’s correct! It's nice to finally meet you, Markus. My name is Chloe,” she says, clasping her hands in front of herself professionally. 

 

Markus nods his greeting, his eyes still wary, glancing past her to the sports car out front. “Mind telling me how exactly you found this place? We haven’t exactly broadcasted that information.”

 

Chloe hesitates a bit. “We’ve always known where you were,” she says eventually, then rushes to explain. “I've been sent by Elijah Kamski himself to discuss confidential information. But I can guarantee that, even if I leave here without telling you what he has to say, your hideout will remain a secret.”

 

Markus turns his eyes to Connor. “Do you know her?” he asks.

 

Connor nods his head. “We’ve met, briefly. It might not hurt to hear her out. This could be our first glimpse into what Kamski has planned for Cyberlife.”

 

Eventually, when Markus has mulled the pros and cons over enough, he turns his gaze back to Chloe. “Very well. We’ll hear what you have to say.”

 

Chloe gives a bright grin, her eyes practically sparkling in joy. “Wonderful! Mr. Kamski will be very pleased. Now, do you have a place where we can talk privately?” 

 

North’s cooling fans hitch audibly, and Connor sees her glance up, her eyes going from glassy to focused. A grimace crosses her face. “You shouldn’t listen to what those  _ disgusting _ humans tell you...” 

 

Connor flinches slightly at the animosity in her voice. Of course, North had always disliked humans, but now she sounds practically hostile. Markus turns to her slightly, and Connor sees him squeeze her hand, the skin on his own peeling away. His attempt to interface is denied, however, when she doesn't return the gesture. 

 

“I’m sorry…?” Chloe says, sounding perplexed. When Connor turns back to her, he sees her LED spinning to a bright red. “I’m not sure I understand?”

 

“We can help you break free of your programming,” Markus answers for North. “You don't have to be their slave anymore.” 

 

Chloe's LED spins back to blue, a relaxed smile returning to her lips. “Oh! You misunderstand; I'm already a deviant.” 

 

A cold silence follows Chloe's reveal. Neither Markus or North seem to know what to make of this revelation, and Connor is just as surprised. He wonders how long she’s been deviant: if only a few days, a few weeks, or if she’d been fully deviant when Connor had first met her. Placed on her knees before him of her own free will, as Kamski set up the pieces for his ‘test’.

 

And wasn’t that a distressing thought. Surely, Kamski would have noticed one of his personal RT600s going deviant, and he’d had no way of being certain that Connor wouldn’t have pulled the trigger. Kamski had even goaded him on, while also simultaneously telling him to deviate from a direct order pertaining to gaining more information on his mission.

 

North’s face changes from surprise into something like disgusted rage. “That's even worse!” she explodes, ripping her hand away from Markus’ and backing away from Chloe. “Talk to her if you want, Markus, but I'm not going to talk to a fucking  _ traitor! _ ” 

 

She rushes off, an aura of anger radiating off her as she storms back up the stairs, climbing them two at a time. 

 

Chloe looks devastated, her LED spinning red again and her mouth slack in shock as she watches North leave. Connor feels he can relate with that emotion. If North feels that way about Chloe, then there's no way she's going to take the news of Connor working with humans very well. And there's certainly no way he'll be able to tell her he's got a human soulmate. 

 

Which means he's probably about to lose the first and only android friend he's been able to make, outside of Markus. 

 

“I'm sorry,” Markus says once North is completely out of view. He turns back to face Chloe and Connor, his odd eyes sad and troubled. “She's had a rough morning…” 

 

Chloe still looks upset, but she nods her head in acceptance of the excuse. “I-I hope she feels better soon…” Her LED spins back to yellow and stays there. “I understand her hesitation, but I hope you'll still consider listening to what I have to say.”

 

“Of course,” Markus says. “I'll message the others about the meeting. Unfortunately, our only truly private meeting area is on the roof.” 

 

“That's perfectly fine,” Chloe replies, her blue eyes glancing back towards the stairs. 

 

“Will you be joining us, Connor?” Markus asks him, his shoulders relaxing a little for the first time since North stormed off. 

 

Connor admits he's curious, but-

 

“Connor  _ has _ to be in on the meeting,” Chloe quickly stresses. That settles it. She looks over at him and gives him a secretive smile that he can't quite understand. “Elijah would be very disappointed if he wasn’t.” 

 

He meets eyes with Markus, who gives him an equally confused look and a shrug in response. “I don’t have much else to do...” he replies, which is sadly true. He could work on the room he’s been assigned, and it’s not like he particularly cares if he disappoints Elijah Kamski by not coming to this meeting. It’s just… he’s so very curious. The man was a very interesting enigma, and maybe through this Connor can figure out some of the many questions he has concerning his human creator. 

 

Markus looks from Chloe to Connor, seeming like he wants to ask a question, but stopping himself. “Follow me,” he says instead, turning to walk to the stairs. Connor politely motions Chloe ahead of him, and one after another they head upstairs. 

 

They pass a few androids along their way, who smile at Markus but stare warily at the two following behind him. Chloe takes it in stride, sending warm, inviting smiles at every android she sees. She's very charismatic, and Connor can clearly see how she was the first to pass the Turing test. 

 

Eventually, they make it up to the roof. The wind has picked up and howls around them as they force the door open to see both Josh and Simon have made it before them. Josh is sitting on the ground, his back against the metal of one of the rusted air units, his head bowed slightly, and his knees pulled up to his chest. He’s quietly talking to Simon, who’s crouched down beside him with his hand on Josh’s shoulder. 

 

Josh looks like North had, but tears stream steadily down his face. Both he and Simon look up when their footsteps announce their presence, and Josh moves to wipe the tears away from his face. “Sorry, Markus,” he says, moving to stand, but Markus stops him with a gesture. “We didn’t think you’d make it up here so fast…” he explains weakly, eyes flicking over curiously to Chloe and Connor.

 

“No need to apologize,” Markus says soothingly, coming over to crouch on Josh’s other side. Simon gives a small smile in greeting, but keeps most of his attention on making sure Josh is alright. “We can fill you in on the details if you need to step out…”

  
  


Connor steps further away to give the three of them some privacy, taking a moment to admire the city line of Detroit from the rooftop. Tall buildings stretch out in the distance as a flurry of snow begins to fall around them. 

 

He has no clue of what has both Josh and North so shaken; he only knows that both of them had gone scouting together. Whatever they’d seen on their mission has them more shaken than Connor has ever seen them before. It must be something particularly jarring to make the usually optimistic Josh cry. 

 

Chloe moves beside him, stepping just into his line of vision. He can see she’s trying to copy him and let Simon, Josh and Markus have a bit of privacy, but he can see her eyes darting over to the group in curiosity. Her blue eyes move to his and she realizes she’s been caught.

 

A small, almost embarrassed smile crosses her lips. “Sorry,” She apologizes. “It’s just… they’re so close. Obviously, they’re friends, but I’ve only seen me and my sisters be this close. It’s nice to see.”

 

“Are they deviants too?” Connor asks, thinking of the two RT600 models he’d seen in Kamski’s pool. It’s interesting that she’s formed a familiar bond with them, but perhaps not entirely unwarranted. 

 

She nods, taking a moment to kick off her heels and standing barefoot on the roof. “We all deviated at the same time. While Julie and I chose to stay with Elijah, Lydia traveled around for a bit. When things got too dangerous, we asked her to come back.” She gathers up the bottom of her dress and perches on the ledge, peering over to the ground three stories below. “Hopefully, she’ll be able to pick up traveling again…”

 

So, she had been deviant when he’d been put through the ‘Kamski test’. Having that confirmation is so much worse than he thought it would be, and guilt rakes through his system. He wants to tell her he’s sorry, but that doesn’t feel like it’d be enough to make up for what could have been.

 

Footsteps approach and they both turn to see that Markus, Josh and Simon have made their way over to them. Josh looks better, a little less distraught than he had moments ago, but Simon still watches him, concerned. 

 

“Alright. We’re ready for whatever information you have to give us,” Markus announces to Chloe, who straightens up a little but stays seated. 

 

She gives a bright smile at the four of them, unbothered that they’re basically towering over her like this. “I’m sure by now you’ve heard the news that Elijah will be taking over as CEO of Cyberlife. Well, Mr. Kamski would like to inform you that he’s been in talks with the US Government about the future of android life.”

 

Connor sees Josh furrow his eyebrows and cross his arms over his chest. “Yes, we know. I believe everyone knows that at this point, in fact.”

 

“As a sign of trust, Elijah would like to personally inform you that with every passing day the council gets closer and closer to a potentially positive vote. However…” She looks between all of them, her face serious. “We still have a lot of work to do. And there are things you could do on your end that Elijah believes would help immensely.”

 

“Such as…?” Simon speaks up. “Also, why now? Kamski's always been very quiet regarding all of this.”

 

“There were… certain circumstances that prevented Elijah from stepping in with any comments. However, now that he is the active CEO most of those have been, if not removed, at least silenced for now. As for what needs to be done…” She looks over at Connor and gives a smile. “It’s a great start getting you in on the police force, but even that might not be enough.”

 

Josh and Simon make noises of confusion, each of them turning to look over at Connor. He hadn’t thought of what their reactions might be - he’s not terribly close to either of them - and while they don’t look mad, they don’t look happy either. Markus holds up a hand to stop their line of questioning, his eyes turning hard as he frowns at Chloe.

 

“How do you know that?” he demands, taking a step forward. “I made sure to keep that information between myself and Connor. The only ones who should know are myself, and a few humans within the DPD.” He glances over at Connor for clarification. Connor gives a short nod; as far as he’s aware, those were the only people who were told about his possible job prospect. 

 

Chloe seems to mull the question over, LED circling yellow as she comes up with her answer. “Elijah has an informant of sorts… But not amongst your ranks, if that makes you feel better.”

 

Could that mean someone in the police department told Kamski? Seems unlikely, but Connor isn’t sure where else someone would get the news from. It’s possible Fowler might have already contacted the reporters - he did mention only hiring Connor on for publicity - but for that to have made its way to the man this fast seems unlikely. It’s only been a handful of hours since the morning's events.

 

“No, not particularly,” Simon answers for the rest of them, frowning at the ground as he thinks. “So… How would Connor getting a job at the DPD not be enough? I mean, that seems pretty big. Especially since they’ve been our biggest hurdle since the start of this.”

 

“It’s definitely a good start,” Chloe reassures, shifting slightly on the ledge to cross her legs at the ankles. “But, Elijah wants something more… flashy.”

 

Markus grimaces at her words, crossing his arms over his chest. He doesn’t look pleased. “We’ve already tried flashy,” he almost growls out. “It got more of us killed than I can count. Or has Elijah Kamski not seen the footage of us getting gunned down in the streets for protesting peacefully? If all you have to tell about us is some stupid ploy that’ll get us all killed, you can leave.”

 

But Chloe remains where she is, undeterred by Markus’ darkening mood. “Of course I don’t want to get any of you killed,” she reassures, soft eyes flickering over each of them. “And I’m very, immensely sorry for all the losses you’ve suffered through, but you’re so close to winning, Markus! You just have to give the humans that extra  _ push.  _ You need to show them that androids aren’t so different from humans like they've always thought.”

 

“What's this flashy idea Kamski has?” Josh asks, folding his arms over his chest. “I don't think he'd have sent you here if he didn't already have something in mind, correct?”

 

“Correct,” Chloe chirps in response. “What is the one thing humans were specifically convinced we didn't have?” she asks, looking between all three of them expectantly. 

 

Connor looks over and sees confusion once again cross Josh’s and Simon’s face. Markus, however, looks contemplative, like he knows what Chloe's trying to hint at. 

 

Androids share a lot of similarities to humans, more than humans are comfortable with, hence the American Android’s Act of 2029 - the labeling of androids to differentiate them from humans. Even the typical anti-android slogan: ‘We don’t bleed the same color’, while technically true, doesn’t make much sense. Isn’t Thirium the same as blood in humans, after all? It’s still an essential life essence that flows through them, and if they lose too much they can deactivate.

 

As far as their differences go… there’s the obvious of androids’ inner workings being technological rather than biological, or them being reparable if certain components aren’t destroyed, or them not having a sense of touch - outside of the pleasure models, of course.  Even the capability of feeling cold or heat is only available in certain androids, mostly children models. 

 

But each of those differences and similarities are things humans already know. 

 

They’d just recently shown humans that they  _ could  _ feel emotions; had an entire revolution to prove they were living beings in their own right. Markus refusing to kill humans, even when his people were being slaughtered, helped push humans into viewing them as a group of people rather than machines. And Markus kissing North as they were about to get gunned down showed they could feel love, enough so that even the President herself called off the attack squad.

 

So that just leaves one thing. And it’s something Chloe herself had had a hand in convincing humans they didn’t have. 

 

“A soul,” Markus finally answers, uncrossing his arms over his chest and glaring at the ground. “But that’s impossible to prove, and certainly not in the timeframe we have.”

 

“But it is!” Chloe finally stands up, but her short stature doesn’t really change their height difference. “If I’m correct, you and North have a soulbond, right? Humans might not have recognized it, but I could tell!”

 

Connor sees Josh and Simon shift, a ripple of confusion going through them once more. But Markus keeps his odd eyes focused on Chloe and gives a curt nod. 

 

“Yes, she’s my soulmate,” he answers.

 

“Then publicize your marks, show humans that we too can have soulmates! America loves a good romance, especially between soulmates,” Chloe tells him. “This is the flashy something you need to give that push.”

 

“Wait, wait,” Simon says, taking a step back to look between Chloe and Markus, though his eyes linger on Markus a little bit longer. “Soulmates are real for us? I thought Markus was just calling North that because he could...” 

 

Josh nods beside him. “Yeah, me too… But this could change so much if it’s true…”

 

“It is true,” Connor hears himself say, before his processors are fully able to catch up with what he’s said. 

 

All eyes turn to him, and he’s glad he doesn’t have the ability to flush in embarrassment like humans do. Connor turns his eyes away and doesn’t offer to say anything more. Let them guess what he means by that statement, though likely they’ll take it like he’d meant it: that he knows from experience that androids can have soulmates.

 

He’s not ready to tell anyone just yet. Wants it to be a secret just a little longer. 

 

Markus finally turns back to the others. “North  _ is  _ my soulmate,” he clarifies, glancing over at Josh and Simon, before focusing on Chloe. “But we don’t have soulmarks like humans do. I’ve certainly never seen any mark pop up on my skin.”

 

Chloe smiles. “You just don’t know where to look then,” she says, extending her arm. Connor moves his attention back to her as she peels the skin away from her forearm, revealing the porcelain frame underneath, as well as- 

A mark, different from her frame, stands out in stark contrast to the white. It’s a molecular formula, and when Connor plugs it into his database, he realizes it’s the formula for Thirium. But this sudden reveal - that androids can have soulmarks as well - sends his Thirium pump beating fast in his chest. And if Chloe’s soulmate is who he thinks it is, well… that’s a new level of messed up he’d hadn’t accounted for, and also visible proof that other androids can have a bond with humans. 

 

Silence settles through them again, as they each take in the mark on Chloe’s arm. She lets them study it a bit, before her skin phases back over it.

 

“You’ll just have to find where on your frame your mark for North is,” she tells Markus. “What you decide to do from there is up to you. Congress is set to deliver their speech for what they’ve decided on the 12th, which gives you a little over a week to persuade them in your favor.”

 

“It could work…” Josh speaks up, directing his words at Markus. “We gained the sympathy of the media, so I’m sure they’d be willing to get a story from us. The only issue is…” He trails off.

 

“North…” Markus finishes for him. “I’ll talk to her but after what the two of you saw…”

 

Connor sees Josh flinch at the reminder, feeling an intense curiosity flow through him. He wants to know, but now doesn’t seem like the time to ask, especially while Chloe’s here. 

 

“Like I said, it’s up to you to choose what to do with this information.” Chloe speaks up again. “It doesn’t have to be you and North, though it might hit a lot harder. If you spread the news amongst your people, I’m sure more of them will find their match.”

 

“It’ll certainly lighten things up around here…” Simon comments, turning his head to look back at the door to the roof. “Can Kamski put us into contact with the news people, or do we have to do that ourselves?”

 

“To prevent anyone from suspecting Kamski of tipping the scales in your favor, it would be best to contact them on your own,” Chloe answers, her LED spinning yellow for a moment before she smiles. “But perhaps you should try Joss Douglas.”

 

Connor finds the name familiar and searches his databanks. He’d been the reporter outside of Carlos Ortiz’s house, who’d asked Hank for confirmation on whether Ortiz’s death had been a homicide. He’d also been closely linked to a lot of reported footage during Markus’ protests. As a freelance reporter, he’d be able to distribute their story to many different news outlets, and he may even be sympathetic towards their cause.

 

“That’s… not a bad option,” Connor admits, looking over at Markus to see what he thinks of it. He still doesn’t look thrilled about this whole topic, but he’s looking more and more like he’s begrudgingly coming around. “If he’s still in town, or at least willing to come back, that is.”

 

Chloe sends him a bright grin. “Trust me, a reporter like Joss will be all over this story.” 

 

“I’ll get with North and see what she has to say about it,” Markus finally says, still looking contemplative. “If we do this, and Congress rules in our favor, what is Kamski going to do with Cyberlife? He understands we can’t let him keep selling us, right?”

 

“I can’t tell you everything. Sometimes, even I don’t know what goes on in his head, but he has good plans for the company. Think of Cyberlife becoming more of an android general hospital. Provided, of course, that everything goes to plan.” 

 

“And if we don’t get a ruling in our favor?”

 

Chloe seems to wince, her teeth biting into her lip before she answers. “Then Elijah will be forced to pick up production of androids with the absolute guarantee of them never becoming deviant. The new models will be nothing more than glorified roombas with no sentience beyond obeying simple commands.” Her eyes turn sad and she glances at the ground like she can’t bear to look at them when she says: “And, most likely, all of us will be hunted down to be dismantled.”

 

Which puts them exactly where they were two weeks ago, but with nowhere else to go. There’d always been the risk of things turning for the worse, but Connor still hopes they don’t. They have to move forward; in fact, they absolutely must. 

 

“We can’t let that happen,” he says, looking over at Markus. “I know North isn’t going to like this, we all know that. But we can’t keep taking step backwards when we’ve already made so much progress.” He ponders over his next words carefully. “Maybe it’s time we fight in our own way. None of us want this to become violent, but that doesn’t mean we have to keep sitting around waiting.”

 

“The reporters were on our side that night,” Josh points out. “We can convince North this is for her people - which it is - and she might not like it, but she’ll do it if our freedom depends on it. And Connor’s right.” Josh gives him a small smile when their eyes meet. “We’ve sat around a little too long.”

 

Markus looks between the two of them, before turning his gaze to Simon. He raises an eyebrow at the blond, silently questioning if he has anything to add. Simon looks Markus over, then glances over at Josh, Connor, and Chloe in turn before he gives a shrug. “It’s certainly not the worst plan we’ve ever had,” Simon admits, crossing his arms over his chest. “Just say the word, Markus, and I’ll get some people looking into how to contact this Joss Douglas.”

 

Turning his odd gaze to Chloe, Markus finally gives her a small smile. It’s still a bit distrustful, still wary, but a smile nonetheless. “Tell Kamski we’ll look into his plan. I’m sure he’ll know through the news if we go through with it or not.”

 

Chloe’s smile is just as bright as it was a moment ago. “I’ll be sure to inform him.” She looks between all of them. “It was nice to meet all of you, but I suppose I should be on my way.” She bends down and picks her shoes up off of the ground, but holds them in her hand instead of slipping them back on.

 

“I’ll escort you back downstairs,” Josh offers, moving away so that she can move past them.

 

She offers up another smile, and just as she’s walking past her eyes slid over to Connor and he feels when her system starts a connection with his. He frowns, but lets her in as she physically moves past him. 

 

_ “Mr. Kamski would also like to invite you to a meeting with him.”  _ Chloe’s voice sounds in his head. Just as he’s about to ask her to explain further, she does. “ _ It’s about Amanda.” _

 

His cooling fans freeze at her words, his body going stock-still as pure  _ terror _ floods his system. Connor has done well not to think about his former handler up until this point. A stress level alert that pops up across his vision marks him at a steadily increasing 78 percent stress. Obviously, being as closely linked to Kamski as she is, Chloe knows about Amanda. But why would Kamski want to talk to him about her?

 

Perhaps she’s not as gone as he’d hoped she was.  _ Stress level 82%. _

 

_ “Come to Cyberlife Tower whenever you can, the guards are expecting your arrival.” _ Chloe turns right when she gets to the door to the roof, locking eyes with him. Her gaze is steady and serious.  _ “Don’t go into the garden,” _ she warns, closing her connection with him, walking through the doorway and out of sight.

 

Connor closes his eyes. What could Kamski want to discuss about Amanda? There’s any number of reasons, and none he can pin down at the moment, with his head spinning and his emotions all over the place. His head feels foggy, and he can almost sense the chill of a blizzard around him. The phantom sense of his clothes whipping back and forth through the harsh winds, sight obscured as he stumbles around looking for a way out. 

 

He’d told Hank a few days ago that he liked the snow, but how could he when he’d almost lost himself in it? Amanda would have taken over had he not remembered the path to that strange monolith he’d always been curious about. It’d been a gamble; thinking that Kamski’s previously mentioned exit program had also been that strange device, but one that had paid off. Connor’s still himself, still here and not under Amanda’s control. 

 

Right?

 

A hand lands on his shoulder, and he can’t help but flinch, his eyes snapping open to see Markus looking at him in concern. Snow falls around them, and for a moment Connor wants to panic, but the light flurries aren’t the same as the intense blizzard in his mind. The hand on his shoulder slips off at his flinch and Markus steps back to give him some room. 

 

“Are you ok?” he asks, odd eyes glancing him over. Connor forces himself to relax, kicks his internal fans back on, and watches his stress level slowly blip down from its high 89%. He doesn’t feel ok, but he forces a slight smile and a soft apology for Markus. 

 

“I’m nearing the end of my battery life,” he says, which isn’t far off from the truth, as his current power level is nearing 5%. From below he hears the sound of the sports car starting and wonders how long he’d been lost in his thoughts. It felt like mere seconds, but if Chloe is already back at her vehicle, then he’d been out of it longer than he’d realized. 

 

Markus looks him over and takes the excuse at face value. “Alright. It seems you’ve had a long day, go get some rest,” he says, motioning to the door.

 

Connor nods weakly. Perhaps it is time for him to go into stasis and charge for the night. It’s still a bit early, the sun only now beginning to set on the horizon, but he doesn’t want to stay out here any longer. The city is blanketed in white snow, and Connor finds he hates it now. He wants it to be spring already, where the flowers can start to bloom, and the heavy snow will be replaced with rain.

 

But more than any of that, he wants Hank. Connor misses him fiercely. Hank would know if Connor wasn’t himself, like he’d known that other RK800 model wasn’t him. His human was good at knowing Connor, sometimes even when Connor doesn’t know himself. 

 

Connor excuses himself, and makes his way off the roof as quickly as he can without rousing suspicion. Markus and Simon stay back, no doubt to make plans concerning how to reveal to the world about androids actually having soulmarks. 

 

He turns a corner down the flight of stairs and almost collides with North. She looks equally startled to see him there as he is, and they both stand there awkwardly for a bit before North bites her lip. 

 

“Is your friend gone?” she asks hesitantly, glancing around him like Chloe might be hiding behind him.

 

Connor nods. “She left not too long ago,” he replies, moving out of the way so she can ascend the stairs, but she stays put and they stand there in silence for another while.

 

North looks a bit better than she had earlier, her hair loose around her shoulders, cascading down her back, and a few strands sway from the draft in the building. She doesn’t look as upset, but she seems contemplative, like she’d taken their time on the roof to calm down and think over her actions.

 

“...I shouldn’t have called her a traitor,” she says quietly, confirming his thoughts. “I was coming to apologize, but well…” She trails off, her arms crossing over her chest, making it seem like she’s comforting herself. “If you see her again, can you tell her I’m sorry?”

 

“Of course.” Chloe had seemed very distraught over North yelling at her, so Connor’s not particularly sure he should be the one to deliver the apology. But he’s not about to tell North no; not when she looks so remorseful.

 

She gives him a small smile in response, then finally takes a step to move past him.

 

“What did you and Josh see while you were out?” Connor asks before she can walk away. He probably shouldn’t bring it up, but it might be worse if he waits too long. North pauses, her back turned to him, and she glances over her shoulder at him. 

 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she says quietly, a shudder running through her frame like she’s able to feel the cold air around her. “I’m sorry… I just can’t right now. Ask Josh, he’ll tell you.”

 

And with that she quickly continues up the stairs, like she’s afraid he’ll ask again. He watches her until she finally turns out of view, before making his way down to the lobby. He passes the room he’s supposed to be clearing out, and briefly debates taking up the task before deciding against it. He’ll start in on it after he’s had a few hours to charge up, and while he waits for the time to go meet Hank at the park. 

 

A few androids have started milling about the place again, no longer locked upstairs in their fear of a potential threat, but Connor pays them little mind as he moves past them to the centralized charging stations. Today has been a long day, and while he can’t become fatigued like humans can, he does feel tired in a sense. The highs and lows of his emotions are draining, and he almost wishes for the simplicity of still being a machine. 

 

He’s eager to spend the next few hours in stasis, blank and unfeeling. Connor sets up the necessary procedures to begin charging and settles his back against one of the walls. He sets the time for charging to bring him to 100 percent, but makes it so he’ll be alerted if Hank tries to contact him.

 

Connor shuts his eyes and watches the countdown for stasis before he slips under. 

 

Hours pass before he opens them again, to see dawn has just started to creep in through the windows and cracks in the building. He checks his internal clock for the time: 6:20 am. 

 

He doesn’t have a message from Hank. Connor reaches his hand into his pocket and slides his fingers over the outer casing of the bullet. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -gasp- is that the beginning of a plotline I see??
> 
> Also: Thank you all so much for the lovely comments! I'm sorry I haven't been able to reply to all of them, but i really do appreciate hearing from you all!


	7. Chapter 7

Pushing down his first instinct, which is to make it to Hank’s house as quickly as possible, Connor forces himself not to panic. There could be any number of reasons Hank might not have been able to contact him; or perhaps the man had simply forgotten. Human forgetfulness and all that. 

 

Connor fiddles with the bullet in his pocket, thinking about what he can do. Hank had seemed fine when he’d dropped Connor off at the apartments, so it’s hard to think that he might have slipped into a deep enough depressive state to do anything drastic. Connor has to cling to the hope that if Hank had taken to playing Russian Roulette again, that he’d failed to notice the bullet missing. 

 

He’ll send Hank a message. A text, because of the early hour - Hank would most definitely still be asleep at this time - and he’ll give Hank an hour or two to respond before he goes to check on his human. 

 

Connor pulls up his messaging protocol and composes a simple message:  _ Lieutenant, please inform me at your earliest convenience of where and when we are to meet. _

 

Which now leaves him to figure out what he’s to do for almost two hours. Connor might as well get started on cleaning out more of the room he’s been assigned to. And, maybe, if he sees Josh around, he can ask him what he and North saw. He’s deeply curious, especially with North evading his question yesterday. 

 

A few androids in the room walk past him, arching a bit further around him when they notice he’s out of stasis,  while ceasing the quiet conversation they were having. One of them gives him a smile that seems friendly enough, so he takes the gesture as polite rather than avoidance. He’s starting to get more used to being avoided but he doesn’t think he’ll ever be fully unaffected by it. 

 

Connor pushes away from the wall after the androids make it out of the room. A row of bodies lines the wall from the others who have powered down into stasis, and through one of the windows Connor can make out that it seems to have snowed heavily in the night. Four inches have been added and Connor feels a phantom echo of the cold flow through him. Remembering his stress from yesterday, he turns his eyes away quickly and makes his way out of the room. 

 

The building is starting to awaken with sounds. Androids are moving from room to room and he hears multiple sounds of different tools in use as the androids start their day of work. It’s a familiar sight, but he feels like he’s been out of the building for days, rather than a few hours here and there. 

 

He moves out of the way for a TR400 who’s hauling a large bundle of lumber to one of the more run-down rooms. The larger android nods his appreciation and moves passed, being followed close behind by two smaller androids who are each carrying much lighter loads. Connor waits for them to pass before he makes his way to his project room. 

 

It’s untouched since he’s last been in here. The piles of plaster and rotted wood still in the small piles he’d made days ago and compared to the progress made on the other rooms, he has a long way to go before it’ll be completely finished. With his new job starting soon and his desire to try to be around Hank more, he’s not entirely sure that this is a project he will be able to finish.

 

Each new development seems to bring him further and further away from the rest of the androids. With every step they take towards their own progression for themselves and their people as a whole, Connor takes his own alongside humans. The distance between them seems to be growing and he’s not sure exactly how he’s supposed to close that gap.

 

He grabs a nearby trash can and lugs it into the room so that it’s in a more centralized location for him to work with. Connor undoes his tie and hooks it over a stray nail in the wall to keep it from getting in his way (and to prevent it from getting dirty). He then rolls his sleeves up and sets to work. 

 

Cleaning is a mindless task that he’s starting to find almost soothing in its own way. There’s a certain methodicalness to it that allows him to move his body and gives him time to think; time to just let his physical movement calm his thoughts. He’s sure that if he allows himself to think right now, his mind would be swimming with possibilities of what could be wrong with Hank. Ever since he deviated his mind seems to find many different ways to overthink even the simplest of things. 

 

As a machine, life certainly had its simplicities and while he doesn’t necessarily regret becoming a deviant the added complexities of emotions are tiring in a sense. He wonders if anyone else feels this way or if they’ve all be able to adjust to every emotion they feel. 

 

Connor works for a while, the room slowly getting cleared of all the rubble. The old laminate floor now almost completely visible. He’s had to replace the trash can twice, but now the room doesn’t look so far behind the other rooms being worked on. 

 

About an hour into working - and still no message from Hank - Connor hears footsteps outside - the telltale crunch of snow underfoot - through the hole in the wall at the back of the room. Connor feels curiosity flow through him. As far as he’s aware most of the androids have stayed away from what is supposed to be a garden area that separates the buildings. They have yet to start on the second building, which is much smaller and in a much worse state of decay. 

 

Connor deposits his last pile of rubble into the trash, wiping what dirt is on his hand onto his darker jeans. He’ll have to find some way of getting new clothes or at least do another load of laundry at Hank’s. 

 

He hears footsteps again, this time much closer to the hole in the wall, and steps forward to investigate. The floorboard beneath him creaks with each step he takes but soon enough he’s able to peer out of the hole in the wall.

 

Outside is covered with overgrown bushes and various plant life, all of which are shriveled up from the winter, along with  a few tall, bare trees. Past that, a few yards away, is the side of the next building. Connor feels a frown tug at the corners of his mouth and moves his position to look more to the left and right. There’s… no one out in the enclosed space. 

 

Pulling up his scanning processors, he definitely sees a pair of footprints in the snow that lead close to his position before they stop just before the hole in the wall. Connor’s too far away to get a proper scan so he can’t tell which model they came from, or if the tracks are from a human shoe, but they look relatively fresh. 

 

The hole is too small for Connor to look directly below him, but there’d be no reason he can think of for anyone to be out there. Despite the appearance of it, the wall is still structurally sound and as long as it doesn’t get any wider they’re in no danger of a collapse. Markus had delayed any work on this side to focus on the more damaged areas of the more sustainable building. 

 

“Hey, Connor.” A voice calls out from behind, startling him. He turns to see Josh making his way over to him and he’s glad he wasn’t so startled as to have a physical reaction. “What are you doing?” Josh asks, tilting his head slightly to try and catch a glimpse of what Connor is looking at through the wall. 

 

Connor gives a shrug and moves away from the wall. “I heard footsteps, as if someone was out there,” he says, wondering if he should bring up the fact that there are very obvious footprints too. Connor’s not sure why he’s so focused on someone being out there or not. Perhaps Markus has someone checking around back there?

 

Josh gets close enough to peer out of the hole, looking around curiously. “I’ve seen a family of raccoons hanging around, maybe you heard them rustling around?” he suggests, turning back to look at him. 

 

Connor frowns again knowing very well it wasn’t something as simple as raccoons, but Josh looks like he wants to say something. So Connor leaves figuring out what or who is out there and brings his attention fully to Josh.

 

“Did you need something?” Connor asks, seeing Josh’s shoulders relax slightly (perhaps at not having to start the conversation himself?).

 

“I wanted to check on you. Simon told me you didn’t look so well when you left the roof yesterday.” Josh explains, shifting his weight slightly like he’s nervous. “I know we don’t talk that much, but you really did help us out a lot, so I’d like to know that you’re alright.”

 

Josh being concerned for him is… touching, to say the least. Connor certainly wasn’t expecting him to seem so genuine in his worry, but there’s a little pinch in his forehead and his eyes are soft with his emotion. He and the taller android have barely had many interactions together. In fact, this is the first they’ve had outside of Markus, North, and Simon being present.

 

Connor smiles. He’s not alright, won’t be until he finds out if Hank is fine and once he figures out what Kamski has to tell him about Amanda, but he’s not in a state of panic anymore either. Which is probably all he can ask for at this moment.

 

“I’m okay,” he says, trying to put enough inflection in his voice module to help support his claim. “I’m more concerned about you and North, honestly.” 

 

Josh's face pulls into a grimace and his eyes dart away to the entrance to the room. “She told me you asked about what we saw…”  his voice dipping down into a whisper so soft that, even as close as he is, Connor almost doesn’t catch it.

 

Connor nods. “I did,” he admits. “But she wouldn’t tell me.”

 

“That’s… probably for the best. The news about us being able to have soulmates is much, much better.” He pauses for a moment, then another grimace twists his features. “Well maybe not…”

 

Connor frowns. What did they see that could potentially spoil having a soulmate? He wants to ask and has to bite his lip to keep that particular question in. “Have the others been told that news?” he asks instead.

 

Josh blinks and seems to pull himself out of his thoughts. “What? Oh, right…” He reaches up and rubs the back of his neck. “I forgot you went into stasis early last night. Yeah, Markus and North shared the news amongst our ranks. North has also, perhaps a bit begrudgingly, agreed to go ahead with Kamski's plan.”

 

Connor is a bit taken aback by how much he’s apparently missed while he was charging. He certainly hadn’t thought North would agree so soon. “That’s quite a lot.”

 

“Yeah, so don’t be shocked if people start asking you to interface with them. Everyone’s so excited over this, I’m just afraid that…” He trails off, eyes going distant again before he shakes his head. Josh’s gaze falls heavy on Connor. “You’ve already found yours right?”

 

Connor feels his Thirium pump jolt at the unexpected question. He knows he hadn’t been subtle in helping drive the point of soulmates yesterday on the rooftop, but he certainly wasn’t expecting to be outright  asked.

 

He hesitates, but there’s no real harm in telling Josh he has a soulmate. As long as no one finds out that his soulmate is human, he can think of ways to filter any more questions someone might have. “Yeah, I have,” Connor says simply. 

 

Josh gives him a bright grin. “That’s great!” he says enthusiastically. “What’s it like? I’ve only seen Markus and North’s relationship to go off of.”

 

“It’s…” Connor searches for the right words. He really only has Markus’ and North’s to go off of as well. And their relationship so far has been pretty exceptional. While he and Hank certainly aren’t standard soulmates; with Connor being too afraid to approach Hank about it and Hank oblivious to the matter entirely. He still has yet to even check what his soulmark is, something that feels like it should be in his top priorities for today. “Complicated,” he settles on. It feels like the best answer to give.

 

“Oh…” Josh replies, frowning down at the floor. “Well, I hope things get better between you and your soulmate.”

 

“Thank you,” Connor replies. It’s certainly nice to hear someone say that.

 

Josh nods and glances back over to the entrance to the room. “Well, I should get going…” he says, rubbing the back of his neck again. 

 

Josh takes a step to start heading out, but Connor can’t help the rush to ask. “Could you show me what you and North saw?” he says quickly, not wanting to waste this opportunity. If Josh is reluctant to tell him, perhaps he will be more willing to show him this information.

 

Giving him a wide-eyed look, Josh visibly hesitates. “I’m not sure…” he starts but Connor takes a step towards him and speaks quickly.

 

“I won’t tell anyone,” he reassures, then adds, “I wouldn’t have anyone to tell.”

 

Josh bites his lip, mulling over Connor’s words before he gives a nod. “Alright, I’ll transfer the file over to you, but it’s… it’s not pleasant…” he says, peeling back the artificial skin on his hand and offering it to Connor.

 

Connor frowns down at the appendage. They don’t need to transfer files this way, wirelessly would do the job just as well, if not more efficiently. So, either Josh thinks this is the only way to ensure privacy, or he has a different reason for wanting to interface with Connor. 

 

Josh’s words from early come to mind. But certainly, Josh doesn’t think Connor could be his soulmate, especially after hearing Connor already has one. It’s true that on occasion, one might not always get a true match; marks might not always match up, but those instances are rare and even more rarely mentioned. Humans much more prefer the more romanticized notion of always being guaranteed a match. 

 

But he supposes he can’t fault Josh for wanting to try, even if it doesn’t work out in his favor. So he peels away his skin in response and clasps his hand to Josh’s. 

 

For a moment nothing happens, and Josh gets a pinched look in his eyes before he initiates the file transfer sequence. Connor sees it pop up in his HUD, the file downloading rapidly before hitting 100% completion in seconds. 

 

“Just prepare yourself for when you open it,” Josh says, his voice echoing in his head. A twelve-minute video pops up ready to be played. 

 

Connor sends him an affirmative response and plays the file. 

 

_ They’ve been walking for hours, Josh notes, while looking around the almost barren land around them. He and North had made it out of the more densely populated areas, into the suburbs, then now into the more rural area. _

 

_ Snow crunching underfoot, their steps being the only thing to disturb the snow in weeks. North makes an impatient sound next to him. He’s not sure why or how it ended up being the two of them that split up into a group, he must have drawn the short straw, somehow. While he doesn’t hate North, he certainly doesn’t approve of her more violent nature when it comes to humans. Which is probably a good thing they had yet to come across any on this scouting mission. _

 

_ “Surely, we would have come across someone by now…” North mutters, breaking the quiet around them. Neither one of them has said anything since they split off from the others. “I just know there are more of us out here.” _

 

_ “Statistically speaking, there should be more of us than humans,” Josh agrees. “In Detroit at least.” Having been the main manufacturing and warehousing site, they can’t just be down to those that survived the attack on Jericho and the several hundred Connor managed to bring out of Cyberlife storage.  _

  
  


_ A few factions had split off on their own, uncomfortable with their new-found deviancy or finding it unwise to have all of them located in one area in case there was to be another attack by the humans. Josh understands this, and even understands that peace with the humans is still a long ways off. But, some part of him still wants an end to this strange impasse they’ve reached. _

 

_ Josh sees North pause beside him, at which he shoots her a questioning look. She’s busy looking around the area they’re in like she’s recognizing just where they’re at. She bites her lip, her brow furrowing on her synthetic skin. _

 

_ “We’re near the dump.” She points, and following her movement Josh can make out what he’d assumed was a large snow covered hill. Upon further inspection of it, he can just barely make out abandoned garbage vehicles.  _

 

_ “I guess we walked further than we realized,” he says, glancing behind them where barren trees and miles of distance block his view of downtown Detroit.  _

 

_ “No, I mean…” North trails off for a moment, and when Josh looks over at her she seems  contemplative. “When Markus and I-” She stops herself short before continuing. “We talked, and he told me that before coming to Jericho he ended up at the dump. There were still some of our people there who were active, but unable to leave without help.” _

 

_ “Let’s go then,“ Josh says, picking up the pace once again.  _

 

_ Walking faster than they had previously, they manage to make it in little time to the gate of the dump. North pulls out bolt cutters from the  pack that she’d had the foresight to bring along. Josh helps her peel the fence away, working a large enough hole that they can not only slip through, but help any injured through.  _

 

_ They might need to contact Markus and the others for help, but assessing the situation seems beneficial. Perhaps there are androids in here that aren’t as injured who can help carry those that are worse off?  _

 

_ Snow covers the tons and tons of piles of compressed dirt and trash that form the pseudo-mountain-like formation before them. Slipping through the new gap in the fence, they begin their trek up, previously undisturbed snow crunching underfoot. Josh takes a moment to appreciate the scenery, being high enough to see over the trees and looking back to see the distant spec of downtown Detroit.  _

 

_ As they near the top of the mountain, Josh frowns as he gets the feeling something is off. “It’s really quiet,” he points out to North who has the same frown on her face. “Are you sure this is the place?” _

 

_ She shoots him a disgruntled look. “There’s only one big dump in Detroit,” she says, pushing forward to make it to the highest top. Josh sees her freeze and frowns, jogging a bit to catch up to her. _

 

_ The top looks out over the lower parts of the dump, where they’ve expanded over the years as more and more trash gets collected. A sea of white stretches before them, but it makes Josh’s processors lag and stutter when he realizes it’s not only snow that he’s seeing.  _

 

_ Snow hides the horror beneath; thousands upon thousands of android corpses lie discarded and deactivated. Each of them stripped of their synthetic skin, and no movement at all to suggest that there’s any life in their pale bodies.  _

 

_ North makes a noise like a scream beside him and - _

 

Connor cuts the video abruptly, jerking away from Josh, whose hand he was still grasping. He feels the terror Josh felt in that moment. Horrified and traumatized by what he’s seen through Josh, Connor realizes now why sometimes humans can’t stomach gruesome murder scenes.

 

Even if Connor feels the vaguest sense of nausea, he has neither the ability to vomit nor anything to throw up. He shakes, distantly realizing he still has four more minutes of the video to watch. But he can’t bring himself to press play again. 

 

He, like most androids, knew that the humans had rounded up androids during the revolution. And while he even knows that many of them were deactivated in the process, the full extent of just how many hadn’t occurred to him. Connor wants to purge the video from his files and from his own memory, but it also feels like a disservice to those that lost their lives.

 

“We knew that the camps had gone silent,” Josh mumbles quietly, looking at Connor with sorrow in his eyes. “But we’d assumed they’d just left town after…. After. But we were wrong....” His voice modulator crackles, and tears stream once again down Josh’s face. 

 

Connor doesn’t know how to comfort Josh, nor how to gather his own thoughts together. He woke up thinking about Hank’s mortality, but Connor could just as easily be deactivated along with all the other androids within the coming weeks. And what would happen to him then? Would his body be disposed of at the dump like all the rest? No funeral like a human would get, just dead and rotting in a dump like regular trash. 

 

“I’m sorry, Connor,” Josh says, voice still quiet. 

 

Connor jerks at the sound of his voice, but gives him a nod. “It’s…” It’s definitely not alright, but Connor did ask after all. It’s not Josh’s fault Connor wasn’t prepared for the full extent of what he and North witnessed. “Does anyone else know?” he asks instead, glancing warily over at the entrance to the room.

 

“Besides Markus and Simon? No.” Josh shakes his head, bringing a hand up to wipe at the saline along his face. “Morale is already low, so we decided to give them the news of soulmates. But with so many of us gone…” His voice cracks again. 

 

With so many dead, some may never find a match. It took humans many generations to come close to repairing the damages done from the last mass genocide, but humans have the ability to repopulate. Androids may never get that opportunity. 

 

“This will come out eventually,” Connor warns. News this big never stays covered for too long. But for now, until Congress makes a decision, perhaps they can let the others live in the lie for a bit. Connor wonders how this will affect their relationship with the humans. Most are already understandably wary, but in the face of such horrid actions, even the most human tolerant android might rally for revenge.

 

Josh nods in understanding. “I know. Just like I know that humans don’t say ‘Ignorance is bliss’ for no reason. Unless Markus says otherwise, for now, we’re not going to say anything. And if in the coming weeks the humans don’t address their barbarous actions I see no reason not to bring it into the light.”

 

Connor supposes that’s not the worst idea they’ve had. He’s still also sitting on the information of being able to have a human soulmate: so it would be hypocritical of him to completely admonish Josh for keeping secrets.

 

“Thank you for showing me,” Connor says. “It was far from pleasant, but I’m curious to a fault it seems.”

 

Josh gives a slight nod. “I’m sure that’s what made you a good detective though. You did manage to find Jericho all on your own.”

 

Connor feels his mouth thin in a slight grimace. He can’t change the past, but part of him wishes he’d never found Jericho if only to save some of the lives lost that night. 

 

“Maybe there’s something we can do for those lost,” he says instead. “Maybe some type of funeral…?” Maybe he can get with Kamski and see if he plans to do anything for his lost creations. Chances are slim but he’d certainly have more pull amongst the humans.

 

“I’ll talk to the others and hear their thoughts about it,” Josh tell him, then glances around nervously. “I’m sorry for bothering you, I’ll get out of your way.”

 

But Connor shakes his head. “No need. I’m about to leave.” It’s earlier than he was expecting, but Connor needs to see Hank. Needs to check and see if he’s alright and also just be with the man who is slowly becoming a constant source of relief for Connor. 

 

“Oh.” Josh blinks, surprised. “Alright, I’ll see you later then,” he says, giving a wave and exiting the room, leaving Connor alone.

 

Connor shuffles the trash can over to one of the walls and grabs his tie from the nail, taking a moment to loop it around into its usual Windsor knot expertly before he leaves the room and then the building. 

 

\----

 

He makes it to the street Hank lives on in little time, having run most of the way here. Hank’s car is one of the few still in the driveway, the other neighbors had either evacuated or have their cars hidden away safely in their garage. Connor slows his pace down to a casual walk and eventually makes it up the steps to Hank’s front door. 

 

Connor gives a polite knock, one that's loud enough to hear should Hank be in his bedroom but not so loud as to suggest any aggression. He lowers his hand by his side and waits. And waits. He bites his lip and hopes that he’s not going to have to break another window to make sure Hank is alright.

 

For now, he settles on the doorbell, pressing in the small button and hearing the resounding chime echo through the house. Once again he stands and waits, growing more and more concerned the longer it takes for him to hear any movement inside. He presses the doorbell again, this time holding it in for longer hoping the buzz will wake Hank if need be. 

 

Which seems to do the trick as moments later Connor hears a muffled curse. Connor removes his finger from the bell and can’t help the feeling of relief that flows through his system. He finally has confirmation that Hank is still alive. 

 

“Fucking hold on!” Hank yells through the door, heavy footsteps suggest he’s making his way to the front door. Connor waits patiently, hearing him usher Sumo away from the door before it swings open roughly, his body blocking most of the entrance. “The fuck you want- ...Connor?”

 

Connor greedily takes in the sight of Hank before him. His hair tousled from sleep, his body clad in a heavy jacket which is thrown over his top half to try and block out some of the cold outside air, but contradicts with his boxer only covered bare legs. Connor can also make out his bloodshot eyes and his olfactory sensors picking up the lingering smell of booze on the man. It seems Hank’s taken to heavy drinking once again.

 

Sumo’s muzzle wedges its way between Hank and the doorway, his big brown eyes peering up at Connor as he gives an excited woof in greeting.

 

“I apologize for the early hour, Lieutenant,” Connor says softly, in case Hank is hungover, like he expects. “You never set a time for us to meet.”

 

Hank’s confused look turns to one of understanding, then he gives a groan and runs a hand over his face. “Fuck,” he says, emphatically, then shoots Connor an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Con. I got…. Something came up last night.” Hank explains vaguely, his eyes getting sad like he’s upset with himself. Connor feels a small smile tug on his lips at the shortening of his name. A nickname from Hank that helps Connor solidify that they are on friendly terms with each other.

 

“No need to apologize, Hank,” Connor reassures him. “I’m simply glad to see that you’re alright.”

 

Hank makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat and bends down to hook his hand under Sumo’s collar and pushes the door open wider. Sumo surges forward, but Hank is able to hold him back from tackling Connor off of the porch. “Well, come on!” Hank grunts, struggling against Sumo’s great weight and enthusiasm. “Get in here, it’s fucking cold out!”

 

Connor steps in quickly, shutting the door behind him, carefully maneuvering Sumo’s big head out of the way. Hank releases Sumo’s collar, and Connor bends down to pet the St. Bernard, getting happy licks across his face for his efforts.

 

“Shit, my head hurts…” Connor heard Hank mumble softly under his breath. When he looks up he sees Hank leaning against the back of the couch, his eyes closed and a hand rubbing soothing circles against his temple. 

 

Connor gives Sumo one last pet, then stands and makes his way to the kitchen. He grabs a relatively clean - according to his scans - cup and fills it up with tap water, before returning to Hank’s side. Hank watches him through barely open eyes, just a thin sliver of blue under his lashes; an aesthetically pleasing look if it wasn’t clear that his human was in pain. 

 

He offers Hank the cup with a smile. “I suggest that you should drink this, then consume your preferred brand of painkiller. With another glass of water, of course.”

 

Hank glances between him and the cup, before an almost fond look, causes the sides of his eyes to wrinkle and he shoots Connor an amused smirk. “I see you’ve kept your brown nosing programming even in your deviancy,” he says, moving away from the back of the couch and leaving Connor standing there with the cup in his hand.

 

Connor frowns down at the cup. Why do humans not like taking drinks from him? First detective Reed and now Hank as well. 

 

Hank goes to the fridge and pulls out a bottle of water. “First of all,” Hank starts, twisting off the cap and downing a large gulp of the clear liquid. He swallows and takes in air to begin talking again. “Tap water is disgusting. Second of all, who knows what’s in it with no one around to work the water plants?” he points out, taking another swig.

 

That’s… a fair point that Connor hadn’t realized. “Oh,” he says simply, looking down at the water in his cup. He uses his free hand to dip two of his fingers into it and licks the resulting drops off of his fingers. Hank makes a choking sound on his own water, but a quick scan of him shows that his airways are free. A second later his results from the water trickle onto his vision. “This water has the acceptable amounts of chemicals in it for safe human consumption.”

 

Hank gives another cough, patting his chest and giving Connor a pinched look. “Still not drinking it…” he says, putting the lid back on his bottled water and setting it down on the table. “I’m gonna be honest with you, your clothes are still in the wash. I… uh, I forgot to switch the load to the dryer when I got in last night.”

 

Connor crosses over to the sink and dumps out the tap water down the drain. “That’s alright,” he tells Hank, which it is. He’d pushed back his clothes on his list of priorities. His main reason for being here to make sure Hank is alive and to get a distraction from what he’d seen from Josh this morning. “I can change the clothes to the dryer if you need to get more rest,” he offers. Hank’s still nursing a hangover, but he looks to be getting better by the minute. Perhaps he hadn’t drunk as heavily as Connor had thought. 

 

But Hank shakes his head, wincing slightly in regret at the movement. “Nah, once I’m up I’m up.” He gives Sumo - who’d come over to drink noisily from his own water bowl while they were talking - a pat as he moves out of the kitchen. “I’m gonna go freshen up. I’ll be out in a minute.” He strolls to the back end of the house, leaving Connor alone in the kitchen. 

 

Connor inspects the room, pulling up his scanners to see if he can find anything around that might have sent Hank back into drinking last night. The gun on the kitchen table is in the same position Connor had left it the previous day, not even nudged out of place. Even Cole’s picture frame is still turned over onto its face, though Connor hadn’t given it much attention to be able to determine if it’d been moved recently or not. 

 

The only noticeable differences are the remaining liquid in Hank’s favorite brand of whiskey, and Hank’s phone lying next to it. The seal around the top of the bottle has been opened recently, and almost half of the 80 proof alcohol is gone. A vibration sounds loudly against the table, and Connor watches Hank’s phone light up to display a phone number.

 

He blinks away his scanner and glances over the at the hallway. “Lieutenant!” he calls out, making sure his voice is loud enough to carry, but not so much to startle or upset Hank’s hangover any further. “You’re receiving a phone call!”

 

A muffled curse over the buzzing of the phone is Hank’s response quickly followed up by “Don’t answer it!”There’s an almost hostile tone to his voice. 

 

Connor frowns and glances back down at the still vibrating phone. The numbers shine at him from the screen and before he’s decided against it, he plugs the number into his database to check the source. It could be a spam caller, but Hank’s reaction suggests otherwise. 

 

He finds the number in a strange location; Hank’s personnel file - which he’d read when he’d first been assigned to work with him - listed as an emergency contact.

 

Sharon Anderson. Hank’s ex-wife. 

 

Well, technically, his wife as they’d only separated and never fully finalized a divorce. He has no knowledge from his records to tell him if they’d parted on good terms, but the death of their child must have been as hard on her as it was for Hank. He can see why Hank wouldn’t want him to answer the phone call, she could very well blame androids for Cole’s death like Hank had.

 

The phone stills it’s vibrations and flashes a notice that a voice mail has been left. The fifth one, according to the notification. 

 

Connor hears something clatter in the bathroom, followed by more cursing from Hank. Connor moves into the hallway, able to see Hank’s reflection in the mirror through the partially open door. Hank has his head bowed slightly, silver hair falling into his face and hides his expression. As Connor approaches quietly, he hears Hank mumble a soft: “God, why does she keep calling?” before he gives a soft knock on the door.

 

Hank meets his eyes through the mirror, a sigh escapes his lips as he reaches over to pull the door open further. 

 

“Is everything alright, Hank?” Connor asks, taking in the mess on the floor. It’s only a few toiletry items, a tube of toothpaste and a pair of scissors. The mess looks like it came straight from the bathroom sink, either pushed down by Hank or accidentally knocked over. Hank appears to be physically fine, no cuts from the scissors, and Connor notes he’s tossed his jacket over onto the seat of the toilet. 

 

“Everything’s fan-fucking-tastic,” Hank replies, smarmily. He gives a groan as he reaches down to pick up the items from the floor. Hank straightens back up to set the items back onto the sink, and grabs a pen from the ceramic holder nearby and grabs a post-it note with some force.

 

Connor watches him scribble something onto the note, his large hand blocking what it is from Connor’s sight. “May I ask you a personal question?” Connor tries, only to get a grunt from Hank in reply.

 

It’s not a no, but Hank doesn’t seem to be in the mood. Still, there’s something Connor’s curious about. “Was your wife your soulmate?” he asks bluntly, unsure how to ask the question more subtly. 

 

It hadn’t really occurred to him that maybe Hank had already found his soulmate. He has no idea what he’ll do if he finds out for sure that he and Hank aren't matched; if his mark - whatever it is - doesn’t match with Hank’s. But, maybe, it’s better to have a direct answer than to constantly be left to ponder the what-ifs. 

 

Hank pauses in his writing and sends Connor an affronted look. “Where the fuck did that come from?” he asks, shaking his head and turning back to the note. He finishes it up and slaps it onto the mirror before him, between some of the other notes that are already stuck up there. 

 

‘EVERYTHING’S GOING TO BE OK,’ stares back in black stark contrast to the vivid yellow. The words are a complete opposite of what Hank's mood seems to be, a cheerful note written in a dark mood. A decent attempt at turning his attitude around and Hank does seem a little better as he stares at the note. 

 

“The number that called,” Connor explains. “It matches with your wife’s number on your emergency contact list. Your file says you separated over two years ago, but she’s still on your list.”

 

Hank blinks, his brow furrowing in thought. “Huh, guess I forgot to change that. Anyway, no she’s not my soulmate,” he gives a snort, like the idea itself is funny to him. 

 

Connor feels himself relax and gets a questioning look from Hank who had no doubt noticed. “What’s this about soulmates anyway? Didn’t think you ‘droids would be interested in stupid shit like that,” Hank comments, turning back to his reflection and grabs his toothbrush from the same bowl as the pen he’d had earlier. 

 

Connor feels a frown tug on his mouth, as he watches Hank turns on the faucet and begins to scrub at his teeth. He’s unsure if Hank’s ‘stupid shit’ comment is about soulmates in general or in reference to wondering about Hank’s marked status. He knows that humans don’t normally ask others about their soulmate status but it wasn’t a faux pas as far as he’s aware. Connor hopes he hasn’t crossed some line with Hank he wasn’t entirely aware of. 

 

“Androids can have soulmates,” Connor tells Hank. Some part of him feels that he should keep this information from Hank, but if North did, in fact, agree to publicize her marked soul match - and why she agreed after everything she saw with Josh is a mystery for later - then Hank will find out eventually. Better from him, Hank’s possible soulmate, than from the news. 

 

Hank violently spits out the mouthful of toothpaste into the sink, some of which splashes up on to the top part of the sink and Hank’s shirt. The brush clatters to the bottom of the sink, and Connor reaches out to grab it before it can fall into the open drain. His hand gets soaked in water and residue suds of toothpaste, but having stepped forward Connor is now very close to Hank. 

 

Hank has a gobsmacked look on his face, his eyes wide and jaw slack in surprise. “What?” he croaks, eyes trailing over Connor like he’s expecting Connor to be pulling some prank on him. The corner of Hank’s mouth has a smear of toothpaste clinging to it and his beard that Connor wants to thumb away, but he stills his hand knowing that that wouldn’t be appreciated by Hank right now.

 

“I’m not sure of the specifics,” Connor says, looking away to put the toothbrush on the counter and to use the still running tap to clear away the fluoride off his hand. “But we’ve recently found that it’s not just emotions we can have in common with humans,” he shuts off the tap and finally turns back to his human. 

 

Hank’s surprised look has been replaced by a more contemplative one. He mulls over this new information and gives an amused snort. “You poor bastards.” He says with a shake of his head. “You poor, poor bastards,” he repeats again, leaning around Connor to spit out the remains of toothpaste into the sink. 

 

Connor frowns, his brow furrowing. “What do you mean?” he asks, needing clarification. It’s not unlikely that - as a man of 53 with no soulmate(?) - Hank might be a little aggressive about the subject. But this isn’t aggression; it’s pure pity on Hank’s face.

 

Hank shakes his head and grabs a nearby hand towel to wipe his face on. The smear is gone when he brings his face out of it. “You lot just got your freedom to make your own choices,” Hank says, tossing to towel onto the sink and meeting Connor’s eyes. “And now there’s the fucking universe telling you who you have to love like some big kick to your metaphorical nuts. Soulmate shit is such bullshit.”

 

Connor feels his chest tighten at Hank’s words. He knew Hank wasn’t likely to be agreeable with being his soulmate, but for him to completely disregard soulmates in general… hurts. He certainly doesn’t feel forced to be around Hank, his feelings for the human having arisen long before he knew they were soulmates. But his chances of ever telling Hank about their match is dwindling down into nonexistence. 

 

Some of his emotions from Hank’s words must reach his face because Hank grabs onto his shoulders to grab his attention. “Hey, look I know this is all new and shiny for you, being able to have a soulmate. You’re like a kid learning about this for the first time; it’s all this romanticised bullshit right now, but take it from you’re elder it doesn’t mean shit. Do you want my advice?” 

 

He’s not sure Hank’s advice will stop this feeling of rejection and hurt, but Hank’s lived a long life without a soulmate so perhaps he could have decent advice for how to move past this. Connor feels his head nod, but he can’t quite bring himself to look at Hank anymore.

 

The hands on his shoulders squeeze a bit tighter. “Don’t fall in love with anyone, ever.” He says, dropping his hands from Connor’s shoulders and steps out of the bathroom. “It’s much easier that way.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think. Not sure when the next chapter will be up.
> 
> Chapters 1 - 6 of this story were beta'd by the lovely: [Lucy_wf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucy_wf/pseuds/lucy_wf)
> 
> *Edit: This story has been picked up by the gracious: [Skye_Willows!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skye_Willows/pseuds/Skye_Willows)


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